Tropical Tryst: 25 All New and Exclusive Sexy Reads

by Nicole Morgan

  Now she understood.

  She was also frighteningly aware of how much danger she was in. If he was willing to drug her to the point she was hallucinating and unable to keep down any food or water, what was going to stop him from pushing too hard? From really hurting her?

  Cold fear gripped at her stomach as she recalled all of the physical abuse she’d suffered during those final months with Roger, before she’d managed to rid him from her life. She’d been fortunate to have the help of New York City law enforcement, or Roger might have killed her.

  Who could she call now? Deep in South America? Could she even trust the legal system down here? She’d heard horror stories of corrupt cops who would do just about anything for the right amount of money.

  She wasn’t rich. She wasn’t famous. She was a nobody. The only people in this entire country who might care for her, were Remi and Jackson. But she didn’t know where she was, or how to reach them.

  Peter scratched at a welt on his neck, his face twisting into a grimace of disgust.

  “This place is crawling with insects. Especially mosquitoes. Huge bastards! I’ve probably got some nasty parasite now, all because you were so hell bent on this suicide trip of yours. Why the hell don’t you ever listen to me, Jenn?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer.

  “That guy treated you like shit while I’ve been there for you every day.”

  She felt sick and dizzy with fear.

  Peter scowled.

  “You look like you’re going to puke again.”

  “I’m not feeling very well. What was in those syringes? I have a bad reaction to some kinds of medication. They make me nauseous and give me migraines.”

  Peter abruptly grabbed the sheet and tore it out of her hands.

  Jenn yelped in shock, as the cloth was ripped away, then quickly curled up her legs and folded her arms in an effort to hide her naked parts.

  “Don’t puke in here!” Peter snarled, ignoring her floundering attempt at modesty. “Go to the bathroom. I’m tired of cleaning up your messes.”

  “Give me back the sheet!”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “I told you, I’ve already seen you naked, many times. We’ve been together for almost a year, Jenn. There’s nothing that I don’t know about you. Nothing I haven’t seen.”

  “I thought we were friends, Peter.”

  “We are, which is why I can tell you to get your ass off that bed before I drag you off. Go! If you throw up on the mattress, it’s going to smell like puke, and that’s not how I want to spend our first night together.”

  She’d actually started to move, until she heard those last few words, then she found herself helplessly frozen in place. Their first night together? There was no way in hell that she could sleep next to Peter, not after finding out that he was a stalker, a kidnapper, and a complete lunatic.

  Worse, she didn’t think he meant actual sleep.

  She thought of the all pictures, the texts, and the phone calls, and she knew he was planning on fulfilling his sexual fantasies with her. All of those perverted things he’d shown her, hiding behind anonymity, which had both terrified and given her nightmares these last six months.

  He was going to try to do those things to her. Tonight.

  Now she really was going to be sick, and it had nothing to do with the drugs still fouling up her system.

  No longer giving a rat’s ass if Peter saw her naked, she dove off the bed, and raced for the only door in sight. It opened into a very narrow hallway with the same cracked white plaster walls.

  There was another doorway straight across from the bedroom, which Jenn instinctively felt must be the bathroom. She ran right past it, heading for the door furthest from the bedroom… from Peter.

  She had to get out. She had to escape.

  Behind her, Peter gave a shout, but Jenn only ran faster. A part of her recognized that if she did escape, she would be alone and naked in an unknown part of a country which she knew very little about.

  She couldn’t speak more than a dozen Spanish words, and less than half of those in the Peruvian dialect, but none of that scared her as much as the prospect of spending one more minute alone with the lunatic who was now chasing her down the hallway.

  Peter must have believed that taking away all her clothing would keep her hiding inside the house. What he clearly didn’t understand, was how much more she was afraid of him, than of anything on the other side of that door.

  She gulped a silent prayer as her hand closed around the handle and gave a violent twist. It wasn’t locked. The door swung open and she was escaping out into the night beyond, with Peter hard on her heels.

  CHAPTER 15

  J ackson scrubbed weary eyes with the heel of his palms. He was going on another sixteen hours without sleep and would need to power nap soon or risk exhaustion causing him to overlook important details.

  After three days of relentless searching, he was already running dangerously low on energy.

  He checked his watch again. Remi was running a bit late. She had agreed to meet him here after her shift at the resort, so she could take over managing the search team, while he crashed for an hour or two.

  He didn't want to sleep, knowing that Jenn was out there somewhere, afraid, and possibly hurt. But if he didn't rest, he might not have the stamina necessary to do whatever it might take to bring her home.

  "Where is she?"

  Jackson turned to see a scrawny little man holding an anemic looking, pistol.

  "Who?" Jackson responded, slowly raising his open palms to waist level in response to finding a firearm pointed at his chest.

  "Don't play games with me, asshole!” The creep snapped furiously. “I flew all the way down here to rescue her from you. I know where you were keeping her, but she's not there now, so you’d better tell me where she is or I'm going to start putting holes in you until the right words spill out."

  Jackson’s gaze narrowed. There was no doubt now, the creep was talking about Jenn.

  Who the hell was this cabron? He didn't look anything like the pictures Jackson had seen of Roger.

  Upon second look, this guy was thin, but he had a wiry strength that shouldn't be underestimated. And that child-sized gun in his hand could still put a man-sized hole in a body.

  Jackson's adrenaline kicked up a notch as he considered how Remi would be coming around the corner any minute. An unexpected interruption like that might cause this lunatic to pull the trigger.

  Even if Jackson managed to knock the gun aside in time to protect himself and his sister, the bullet might still find a target among the villagers behind them, most of which were innocent women and children.

  He needed to defuse this situation fast.

  "Look buddy, we're on the same side," he spoke gently, persuasively. "I'm trying to find her too. Why don't you holster that sidearm and join the search? We could use your help."

  The gun never wavered, but Jackson saw doubt and suspicion flicker across the man's abnormally bright eyes. Was the guy on drugs? That would add an additional layer of danger to the situation.

  He wouldn't be thinking clearly. Depending on the drug, he might also be insensitive to pain, which could make him even stronger and more resistant to any form of take down and restraint.

  "She's not at the resort?" Those too-bright eyes snaked past Jackson, as if expecting to find Jenn hiding in his shadow.

  "No." That bad feeling in his gut was getting stronger. "Who are you?"

  "I'm the man who's been caring for her while you've been tripping all over the world, jarhead. I know your type, soldier boy. You're the fuck ‘em and leave ‘em kind, just like my dad. You're not the marrying kind. Jenn's nothing to you but a notch in your bed post, like all the girls, in all the countries you toured. One in every port, right? Just another body you've conquered, never mind who gets hurt or left behind. I should put you down now and bring a little peace to all those women you’ve left in your wake. Jenn would thank me for it,
once I’ve found her."

  "You're wrong," Jackson snarled.

  The gunman shrugged his shoulders, the little gun bobbing with the motion, drawing Jackson's attention back with laser precision.

  "I'm not going to argue with you," el cabron sneered. "You're not worth my time. You've had your fun, now leave the hard stuff to a real man. Someone who's willing to do what it takes to keep his woman safe."

  He started to turn away, then hesitated. With his free hand, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a tiny fistful of pink material.

  "Here's a souvenir for you. It's the last thing you'll ever see of her." He tossed the cloth onto the dirt between them and Jackson felt the blood turn to ice in his veins. They were torn and stained, but he recognized Jenn's dainty brand of underwear.

  "Once I find her, I'm taking her somewhere you'll never be able to hurt her again," the gunman was telling him, but Jackson couldn't hear the words through the blood now pounding in his ears.

  Staring at the tattered remains of her panties was when it all finally clicked into place. Roger wasn’t responsible for Jenn’s disappearance, this lunatic with the gun had taken her. But if el cabron was here now, searching for her, Jenn must have escaped. Which meant she was still alive… somewhere.

  Jackson was moving even before his sleep deprived brain had fully registered all the facts. He was vaguely aware of the gunman’s smug expression widening into an almost comical gasp of surprise.

  As his fist smashed into the man’s face, Jackson heard the explosion of the gun firing between them and felt the blaze of pain as the bullet ripped through his flesh, but none of that mattered now.

  In a series of rapid strikes, Jackson had reduced the gunman to a crumpled, unconscious heap on the ground. The pistol lay in the dirt near his feet, dropped and forgotten as el cabron had thrown up his hands in an attempt to shield himself from Jackson’s rage.

  Jackson snatched the gun from the ground and jammed it into his back pocket, before reaching down to grab the man by the sleeve of his shirt and roll him onto his back.

  “Wake up! Wake up, you reconche tu mare weon and tell me where she is! Where did you take her?”

  The man groaned and tried to curl himself up into a fetal position, but Jackson used one booted foot to roughly shove him back.

  “Where is she?” He roared, then wobbled on his feet as blood loss caused the world to tilt beneath him.

  Glancing down, he realized that the front of his shirt was soaked and there was a pulsing red river flowing down his left pant leg.

  He cursed violently and pressed his hand to the oozing hole in his stomach.

  “Jackson!” Remi’s panicked voice made him whirl to warn her back, but the sudden motion was too much for his critically weakened body. His knees buckled and he collapsed.

  “Oh my god!” Remi was at his side in an instant. “What’s going on? What happened? Is this a bullet hole? Damn it, Jackson! You’re bleeding to death, stop trying to push me away!”

  “He took Jenn…”

  Remi glanced towards the cowering gunman, who was now curled up on the ground weeping like a baby as he held trembling hands to his broken nose. El cabron's weasel face was covered in blood, snot, and tears, but Jackson wasn’t finished with him yet.

  Despite his sister’s attempts to hold him down and put pressure on his wound, Jackson aimed a boot and kicked as fucking hard as he could. The gunman’s head snapped back and struck the plaster and rock foundation of the building behind him, knocking him out once more.

  “Jackson!” Remi was screaming, clawing at his shirt in an effort to manage his wound, but he didn’t give a damn if he bled to death. He needed to be sure that Jenn’s kidnapper stayed down until reinforcements could arrive.

  His two-way lay a few yards away, knocked off his belt during the brief beating he’d given his adversary, so he grabbed Remi’s radio and quickly thumbed the call button.

  “Hostile down behind the mercantile! Converge and detain! Converge and detain!”

  Remi yanked the radio from his hands and Jackson was surprised to see tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Stop moving!” She demanded, shoving at his chest in an attempt to force him into a supine position. “You stupid idiot! What were you thinking? Why didn’t you call me? You can’t do this to me, Jackson! Don’t you dare do this to me!”

  He frowned in confusion. Do what? Then the world gave another wild lurch and he found himself lying flat on his back while a strange, black fog crept in from the edges of his vision.

  Struggling to focus, he reached for Remi’s wrist and tried to point her towards the crumpled figure lying behind her.

  “He took Jenn…”

  “Fuck that asshole!” She responded, without a glance towards the fallen man.

  “Remi… he took her…”

  “Shut up, you idiot!” She snapped back, pressing her palms against his stomach and sending a flash fire of agony ripping up through his body. His breath hissed through brutally clenched teeth as he fought back against the darkness that tried to swallow him.

  “What the hell happened?” A familiar voice shouted as he heard boots rapidly approaching. His team had finally arrived.

  “He’s been shot,” Remi was openly weeping, yet she remained fiercely vigilant at his side, her strong hands pressed tight to his stomach, staunching the flow of blood. Not taking her eyes off from her brother, she jerked her head towards the fallen gunman.

  “That’s the guy who took Jenn and shot Jackson.”

  The men didn’t need to know anything more. Jackson could hear the fallen man grunt in pain as he was yanked off the ground and slammed up against the wall of the mercantile so his hands could be tied behind his back.

  One of the men dragged the creep away for questioning, while another crouched down beside Remi.

  “You okay, boss?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Jackson lied. “Just get me patched up so we can finish this.”

  That earned him a grim smile and a nod.

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  CHAPTER 16

  J enn’s teeth were rattling so hard she was surprised they hadn’t all shattered and fallen out of her mouth.

  It was shocking how cold the rainforest could be at night. It had felt warm enough when she was snuggled in a comfortable bed with a sheet and pajamas between her and the elements. But now she was naked and the jungle was very, very damp. The combination was a recipe for misery and possible hypothermia.

  Her misery was amplified by the endless swarms of bloodsucking insects which had quickly descended upon her exposed flesh.

  She’d run for as long as she could, ignoring the lash and tear of jungle vines and plants against her body. Occasionally stumbling as her bare feet were abused by sharp stones or thorns.

  For the first hour or so, it was all a terrifying game of hide and seek, as Peter called and hunted for her among the trees. But after a while, his shouts had faded and she could no longer hear the sounds of him pursuing her.

  She wasn’t sure exactly how long she’d continued running after that, but it had felt like forever. When she couldn’t run anymore, she had walked, and when she was too weary to walk, she had crawled.

  Eventually, she’d found herself unable to go any further.

  She had no idea where she was. She hadn’t seen any houses or signs of life since she’d escaped. She was completely lost, in the dark, in the jungle. If a panther or a giant python were to attack her, she’d never have the strength to defend herself.

  She was too exhausted to cry, even if she wasn’t desperately dehydrated. It was almost comical for her to be dying of thirst in such a wet place, but she’d seen too many of those reality television shows which warned against drinking any of the stagnant water she’d stumbled through during her escape.

  It was better to be thirsty, then to slurp up a giant parasite or two.

  She had eventually curled up beside the massive trunk of a tree at least ten feet wide in
diameter. It felt a bit like having an actual wall against her back, which offered a strange sense of comfort, despite her circumstances.

  She didn’t have a blanket, so she’d done her best to cover herself in leaves and rainforest debris, hoping to retain some body heat.

  Despite her makeshift attempts to conserve warmth, she’d shivered all night long, making it impossible to sleep.

  She was incredibly grateful when she heard the birds beginning to sing and chirp in the canopy above her, heralding the arrival of dawn. She was alive and she was safe, at least for the moment.

  It wasn’t until she crawled out from underneath her leafy bower, that she received her first terrible shock of the day. She was covered in leeches. Not just one or two, there were at least a dozen of the glossy black worms attached to her naked flesh.

  Repressing a scream of horror, she began clawing at their nasty little bodies, attempting to rip them from her skin. It was harder than she’d expected, because they were slippery and stretched when she tried to pull on them.

  Wherever she did manage to tear one off, a trickle of blood remained to mark where it had been feeding.

  By the time she removed the last leech, her skin was mottled and streaked with bruises, mosquito bites, and drying blood. She was sobbing, on the verge of hysteria, with every muscle in her body protesting against any form of movement.

  All she wanted to do was curl up on the ground and cry, but that would just be an invitation for the leeches to come back and feast again. She had no choice but to keep moving, hoping that she would eventually stumbled into a village where she could find help.

  She couldn’t let herself consider the possibility of Peter finding her first. Or think about what she might do if the villagers she encountered were less than friendly.

  More than anything else, she longed to see Remi again. And Jackson, despite all of her doubts and fears.

  It was painfully clear that Peter was the psychotic mastermind behind the photos and messages. He'd crept past her defenses when she was at her most vulnerable. Worming his way into her inner circle, under the guise of a harmless shoulder to cry on.