She saw neither hide nor hair of the pirates. After a while, she assumed they’d either been killed in the raid or had fled the island…or were waiting up ahead. Thoughts of her fellow captives plagued her. There had been a lot of bullets flying around last night, but she’d been far too frightened to pay close attention. She hoped Brandy and the others were safe, but until they got off this island, she wouldn’t know for certain.
Stone slowed as they approached a break in the trees. He motioned for her to stay back as he crept ahead to scout the clearing and make sure it was safe to pass. While as a general rule, Lily did not appreciate being told to Stay, like a dog, she was willing to cooperate in this instance.
She sat down on a hummock of dirt and pulled off her shoes while he scuttled to the clearing. She dumped out the sand and massaged her toes, glancing back the way they’d come. How far had they walked? Four miles? Five? Tough to tell but judging from the position of the sun, it was early afternoon.
Her stomach growled as she slipped her shoes back on. She thought dreamily of the meatloaf she’d mocked this morning. What she wouldn’t give for a small bite of it now—
She stilled as a twig snapped behind her. Horror rose like lava in her throat. Stone was too far away to have doubled back so quickly. She whirled around, but far too late. Someone grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth with a grimy hand. Someone wiry and strong. Someone who smelled very much like rotten tangerines and sweat.
Her scream was muffled by his palm. She tasted the filth on his fingers. He yanked her against his bony form; his body heat scorched her. He snarled something in her ear, something she didn’t understand…but she recognized his voice.
Kaafi. The mean one.
With panic whipping through her, she fought as he tried to drag her into the trees. If he succeeded, Stone might not be able to find her. But Kaafi was bigger than her and stronger. She could tell from the nasty odor clinging to him that he’d been chewing Qat, the pirate’s drug of choice.
As she struggled, something hard hit her side and she realized his rifle was slung over his shoulder. If she could just reach it…
He swung her around and towed her into the woods, but because he had to keep one hand over her mouth, he wasn’t very effective. She grabbed for trees and roots and bushes…anything she could to slow them down.
But she’d forgotten how mean he could be.
The hard slam of his fist to her cheek reminded her. It rang through her skull like a claxon. A very excruciating claxon. She crumpled as the pain blinded her. Kaafi grunted with satisfaction, then took her by the wrists and dragged her deeper into the trees. It occurred to her, through the fog, she could scream now, and she tried, but no sound came out.
Her mind spun, her nerves screamed, she rolled in and out of consciousness, but she was aware of several things. First, she was aware of frustration. She hated being weak and small and unable to protect herself from men like this. Second, she was aware—in spotty bits—of the beauty of the sun angling through the trees. Finally, she was aware that when Kaafi stopped, it was in the middle of the woods. He dropped her on the dirt and hunched down to grin at her. His teeth were brown, his breath bilious. She was still stunned from his punch, but not so stunned that she did not know the cold grip of terror when he ripped open her blouse.
Captain Garnier had assured them that Somali pirates left the women alone. But he’d also said they didn’t murder their hostages. These pirates had killed Pierre without hesitation when he’d tried to escape. Shot him down like a dog.
Judging from the glint in Kaafi’s eye, he didn’t give a rat’s ass for pirate conventions.
He dropped his rifle on the ground out of reach and forced her legs apart with his knees. Revulsion licked through her as he shoved his hand between her thighs. His chuckle was dark and foul. She jerked away, rolled from one side to another and hit and clawed and fought until he captured both her wrists in one hand and slapped her again, snarling in clipped and thickly-accented English, “Be good.”
“No,” she wailed.
No. She’d been good her whole life.
She was tired of being good.
So she did something very impolite.
She kneed him in the groin.
His eyes bugged out and he sprayed spittle over her face, but he rolled off her, which was what she wanted.
What she didn’t intend was to enrage him.
They didn’t tell you about that in self defense classes…or maybe they had.
He lurched up on his knees and then struggled to his feet, though nearly doubled over and groaning in pain. The muscles on his neck stood out. His nostrils flared. The glare he shot her burned.
He bent down, picked up his rifle, and pointed it at her chest. “No good. You die,” he said in a cold voice.
And he pulled the trigger.
The click echoed through the clearing, but Lily barely heard it over the pounding of her pulse. Kaafi turned the gun and frowned at it. He smacked it a couple times, pulled out the round, and reloaded it…and then pointed the rifle at her again.
Lily squeezed her eyes closed and turned her head away. She didn’t know a lot about guns, but the bullet had looked pretty big. She wondered what it would feel like, ripping through her body.
She hoped it was quick.
She flinched as the gun fired. The sound was not what she expected. Not a loud bang, but a soft whizz and a dull thud…and then a not so dull thud.
It didn’t hurt at all.
Slowly, she cracked open a lid and peeped at Kaafi. He was crumpled on the ground, his eyes open, staring up at the beautiful shafts of light filtering through the leaves. A bubble of blood pooled on his forehead, and then trickled into his hairline.
Lily grabbed her chest to check, to make sure she wasn’t shot. Or perhaps to remind her heart it was okay to start beating again.
The brush rustled and she leaped to her feet, angling herself behind the skinny tree. It was probably stupid of her. The tree didn’t really provide much cover, but she felt better having it between her and—
Her breath gushed out as Stone appeared.
He barreled toward her at a full run and yanked her into his arms. “Jesus,” he gusted. “Are you okay, Lily?”
Okay? He was here. He had saved her. Everything was wonderful. She clung to him like a limpet.
“Yes. Yes.” Were those tears dampening her cheeks? Why? Why now? When she was safe? She peered up at him, attempting to blink them away. He froze as their gazes locked. His attention flicked downward, to her breasts cupped in the lace of her bra. His throat worked.
“I thought… I thought… Aw, shit.”
And then he kissed her. Hard. Wild. His mouth was hot and sweet and demanding as he took hers. Tantalizing. Delicious. In that harsh coupling, she tasted a savage rejoicing. And she gave it right back.
She’d nearly died. But for a jammed round she would have.
Exhilaration, delight, joy to be alive consumed her.
Or it might have been the kiss.
It was a mighty fine kiss.
It ended far too soon.
Stone pulled back and stared down at her, his chest working like a bellows, as though he’d run a mile. He threaded his fingers through her hair. “Lily,” he said, his lips tweaking in the ghost of a smile. “I’m so glad you are not dead.”
She grinned at him, and repeated his jest from this morning. “I’m glad too.”
He missed the joke. Indeed, he frowned. “When I saw his rifle pointed at you, my heart stopped. I was out of range, I had to run…and then, when I saw him shoot—shit.” He kissed her again, this one quick and hungry.
“But you got him. You got him.” She set her palm on his cheek, ignoring all the shoe polish. No doubt it was all over her face now too. She didn’t care. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Saving you? I should never have left you alone.” He turned away and raked his scalp with his nails. “What the hell was I thinking?”
/> “You were doing your job. Stone… Stone…” She turned him back. “I’m fine. We’re fine…”
“You almost died.”
“But I didn’t. Look at me.” She held out her arms.
He gaped at her. His eyes glazed over. She realized her chest was totally exposed.
She didn’t care, because when his gaze met hers again, there was a new light in it. This light was not detached or cold in the least. It scorched her. Lit something within her.
She’d almost been raped and she’d almost been killed, but somehow all that paled next to the realization that she’d almost died without knowing this. His kiss. This passion. A raging need snarled through her, a scorching arousal she didn’t care to explore. She wanted him. Wanted him more than her next breath. And he wanted her.
“Stone…”
The sizzling moment shattered. He jerked back, as though suddenly reminded of where they were, of the threat that still loomed. He frowned down at Kaafi’s body. “We should…go.”
Disappointment ravaged her; she attempted to swallow it. She wanted to kiss him again. She wanted him to touch her. She wanted…more. Everything.
But he was probably right. If Kaafi was out here in the woods, there could be others too. And making love next to a dead body, probably not awesome. So when he tugged her lapels together, she let him, and then she tied her blouse under her breasts. Her bra still peeped out when she moved, but it was little less than a bikini top, wasn’t it?
He forced his gaze away and picked up Kaafi’s rifle. “Do you know how to use this?” he asked.
“I’ve never shot a gun.” Lily shrugged. “Point and pull the trigger?”
“It’s not a gun. It’s a rifle or a weapon,” he said with a tight smile. Then he showed her how to check for a round, clear the chamber, and flick the safety, all in quick, practiced moves. It seemed so simple when he did it.
“Keep this,” he said, handing it to her. “Just in case.”
She snorted. “It’s hardly reliable.”
Did he need to grin like that? “The point of having a weapon,” he said, “is to discourage people from using theirs on you. Keep it. And use it if you need to.”
She glanced at the body lying in the dirt. She didn’t think she could ever kill someone, but she kept the rifle. He was probably right. If she had it, she would be safer than if she did not. She slung the rifle over her shoulder, as he had his, and followed him back to the beach.
They emerged in the clearing he’d been scouting. It was a good thing he’d thought to do so. The pirates had set up something of a base camp here. Lily could see the remains of a fire, a pile of suitcases, and a cache of food and water from the Avonturier.
Stone kept watch as she found a backpack and filled it with canned food, water bottles, antiseptic hand wipes, and a first aid kit. From her own suitcase, she grabbed another pair of shoes, clean underwear, and a fresh shirt, though she didn’t bother to change here—they had to hurry in case the pirates came back. She would have taken more, but the pack was getting heavy.
“Ready?” Stone asked, his voice slithering toward her on a whisper. She nodded and tossed him a bottle of water. He opened it and drank it down in one go. She did the same. It felt wonderful, so she grabbed another.
“Not too much,” he cautioned. “Too much might upset your stomach.”
Seriously? All this and he was worried about an upset stomach?
His brows came down. “If you throw up, you could become dehydrated.”
“Oh.” Of course.
He jerked his head toward the beach. She was beginning to understand his language. That jerk meant: Let’s go.
She bit back a grin and followed him.
They moved a little slower, because of her. The added weight of the backpack made her feet sink into the sand, but he didn’t seem to mind. He kept pace with her, scanning the beach and the tree line with constant vigil.
It must be exhausting, being him.
But then, it was exhausting being her. At least, at the moment.
She was glad she hadn’t had that second bottle of water when her belly churned. “Can…can we stop for a minute?” she panted.
His mottled brow wrinkled and then he nodded crisply. “Not for long.” He checked the sky. Evening was coming. They’d walked all day.
Her thighs screamed. She told them to shut up.
Stone found a fallen log and gestured for her to sit. He, however, stood, facing the woods and glaring into the foliage. Did he never relax? She sighed and fished around for the antiseptic wipes, taking a moment to scrub her face and hands. To her mortification, the wipe came back black. She frowned at him. “Why didn’t you tell me I was covered in shoe polish?”
He rocked back on his heels. “’Cause it was cute?”
She tried to glower, but it was difficult. He thought she was cute.
“And it’s not shoe polish.”
“It looks like shoe polish. Here.” She thrust a wipe at him. “You should clean up too.”
“I’m on a mission. We get dirty.”
She blew out a breath. “I mean, your face.”
“It’s better if I leave it on.”
Seriously? “It’s scary looking.”
“It’s supposed to be scary looking.”
“It gets all over me when you kiss me.”
He froze. His gaze locked on her lips. His tongue peeped out…as though he was thinking about that kiss. Or thinking about kissing her again.
A thrill shot through her.
“I, ah, shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, ma’am.”
Annoyance riffled. “Oooh. Don’t call me ma’am. Old ladies are ma’am.”
“It’s a sign of respect.”
“No, it’s not. You say it when you want to create distance between us.”
“There should be distance between us. I’m on a mission.” She didn’t like the way his voice raised, the way it lit with emotion. Or maybe she did.
“You said that before.”
“It’s still true. I’m a goddamn SEAL. You’re my mission. Getting you home safe. That’s all that matters.”
“You’re also a man.”
He clamped his jaw shut and stared at her. Silence throbbed between them. Then he said, in a hard, cold voice, “I am not a man. I’m a weapon. And I am definitely not the man for you.”
It could have been her imagination, but she didn’t think it was, that tiny thread of regret in his tone.
Still, his words hurt. “You kissed me.” An accusation.
“It was purely an emotional reaction. I thought he’d killed you. I thought he’d fucking raped you and killed you…”
“So…you kissed me?”
“It was the adrenaline. Nothing more.”
She hid her smile, digging in the dirt with her toe. “Do you kiss all the people you save?”
“What? Hell no—” He stopped short, realizing what he’d just admitted, realizing how much he’d revealed with that enflamed denial.
She lifted her gaze to his. “So why did you kiss me?” She asked softly, but he heard. He scrubbed his face with a palm. A pity only some of the shoe polish came off.
He hunkered down and gusted a sigh. “That should be obvious, shouldn’t it?”
“Should it?” It wasn’t. Not really. She hoped she knew what it meant, but he was so hard to read, she couldn’t be sure unless he said it.
“You’re a…” He waved a hand at her.
“Woman.”
“A woman. Yes. And I’m a…”
“Man.” This much, she already knew. “So, you kiss all the women you rescue.”
“Of course not.”
“Do you kiss any of the women you rescue?”
He frowned. “I kissed you.”
“Anyone else?”
His frown turned into a glower. He stood in a rush. “We should get going.”
She stretched out her legs and crossed them at the ankles. “Anyone else?”
&
nbsp; “Lily. Come on. We’ve rested long enough.”
Right. She wasn’t going anywhere until she got her answer. She tipped her head and arched a brow.
There was no need for him to growl.
She did not allow herself to be intimidated. She growled right back.
This seemed to stun him, for some reason. As though he was used to people just snapping to attention and doing his bidding. Silly rabbit.
“By the way,” she murmured in a casual tone. “I can be very stubborn.” She tweaked a grin at him. “They say it runs in the family.”
“I could pick you up and carry you.”
Such an empty threat. “Me and this heavy pack and your pack and… My, my, Stone. How far do you think we’d get?”
“Goddamn it, Lily—”
“Any. One. Else?”
“You are stubborn, aren’t you?”
“Anyone else?”
“No! Okay. No. Never. Not even one goddamn time.”
She studied him for a moment, relishing in his confession. Then she stood and collected her things. She patted him on the shoulder. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
He muttered something that sounded like, “You have no fucking idea.”
Whirling to hide her smirk, she sauntered away.
“Lily?”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Hmm?”
He jammed his thumb down the beach. “The other way.”
Oh. Right.
Shooting him a supercilious look, she wheeled around and resumed the trek to the south.
Chapter Six
‡
He shouldn’t have kissed her. He shouldn’t have.
But damn, he was glad he had.
If nothing else, he knew how she tasted.
And she tasted incredible.
But that was it. That was all it could ever be.
Hell, he’d nearly lost all control. Nearly forgotten where they were and laid her down on the ground and fucked her—right there in the scrub.
She deserved better. A bed at least.
Dinner. Candlelight. Romance.
What was he thinking?
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