Hot Soldier's Chase

by Cindy Dees

  The end game was going to be chancy at best. He was going to have to be at the very top of his form to get them out alive.

  And to do that, he damn well had to lay off of kissing Kimberly.

  He dug deep for the determination that sustained him in the toughest of situations. He channeled it, shaped it into a kernel of pitiless self-discipline. He ripped every thought out of his mind but one. Staying alive.

  Brutally he suppressed the feel of her soft hand at his waist, squashed the memory of her mouth opening beneath his, her tongue dancing and enticing his, her body welcoming him.

  Staying alive, dammit!

  Lust later. Survival now.

  He pushed forward through the jungle. When his watch read 5:00 a.m., he called a halt. Kimberly sagged beside him. He didn’t bother to make a shelter. He just crawled beneath an overhang of thick vines, spread the space blanket over them, and went unconscious.

  His watch alarm vibrated silently against his wrist an hour later.

  Grimly he fought off the insidious pleasure of Kimberly’s warm, sleek body against his. He denied himself the lingering wake-up kiss that was his first impulse to give her, and he merely shook her lightly awake.

  “Time to go,” he bit out past the rigid wall of his self-restraint. He folded the space blanket and stuffed it into a pocket, ready to resume their flight.

  KIMBERLY RUBBED her eyes and looked around, groggy. She’d been deeply asleep and was having trouble orienting herself.

  Tex was frowning impatiently.

  But then, he’d been that way for a while last night. The searing kiss they’d shared took on an unreal, dreamlike quality in her mind.

  Had it even happened?

  It had to have. No way could she have imagined the uncontrollable passion that had consumed her, especially since she’d had no idea such sexual fury existed until Tex wrapped her in his arms and carried her to the ground.

  He moved out, and she fell into place behind him. There was enough light to see by, so she didn’t grab on to his belt. But she missed the subliminal link between them.

  He seemed so…distant…this morning.

  Maybe he was feeling the stress. He’d gotten as little rest as she had, and she was absolutely beat. The idea of even five or six hours of uninterrupted sleep sounded like heaven. She stumbled along behind him as the jungle faded from gray to pale mint to a hundred shades of vibrant green.

  The rainforest was growing decidedly more moist. The ground was spongier beneath her feet, the soil black and damp. Humidity-loving orchids and ferns abounded, and the foliage became almost impassably thick at times. Even the animal noises sounded richer and more abundant.

  The terrain began to slope gently but steadily downhill. It was a relief to her sore muscles, but it also worried her. Did it signal the beginning of whatever trap lay ahead of them?

  Tex hadn’t said it in so many words, but something bad waited in front of them. Unfortunately the rebels hadn’t left them any choice but to walk into whatever it was.

  Tex was grouchy and taciturn this morning, which wasn’t like him at all. Something was up.

  “So, Tex, what’s on the agenda today? Swinging on vines and wrestling lions with our bare hands?”

  He grunted and didn’t deign to answer. That was odd. He was always quick with a snappy comeback. He just kept walking.

  She frowned at his retreating back. She’d started to believe that he was different from her father. But this brooding mood of Tex’s was very similar to ones she’d seen from her dad. Particularly right before he had one of his blowups.

  The old fear tickled just beneath the surface of her thoughts. She found herself falling into old patterns of trying to become invisible, of not provoking Tex in any way.

  They stopped briefly to harvest more of the ginger root, but Tex made her eat it on the move. When its pungent taste and woody texture started to get old, she thought about termites and the tough root suddenly held gourmet appeal.

  They walked for what had to be several hours without any breaks at all. Kimberly began to feel light-headed. Her feet stopped cooperating, and she felt on the verge of collapse. As badly as she didn’t want to trigger a blowup in Tex, she had no choice. “Tex,” she called quietly.

  He turned around with a scowl.

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped, completely out of breath. “I’ve got to stop.”

  His scowl deepened noticeably.

  “Just a minute or two,” she added apologetically as she sank to the ground.

  He was beside her instantly. “What’s up?” he asked shortly.

  “I feel lousy.”

  “Dizzy? Sick to your stomach? Light-headed? Weak? Hot?”

  “All of the above,” she gasped.

  “To be expected. Fatigue, hunger, stress…they’re all hitting you at once. Your blood sugar’s probably dropped off the bottom of the chart. We’ll give your liver a few minutes to dump its emergency store of sugar and then you’ll feel better. Put your head between your knees and breathe normally.”

  Like she could do anything normally at the moment! Her heart raced weakly. Dear God, please let him not blow a gasket right now. She was too tired to protect herself from it. She put her head down on her knees and breathed deeply. Gradually she felt blood return to her head and the rumbling nausea in her stomach subsided.

  She looked up. Tex stood over her protectively, rifle at the ready, his gaze roving all around as he waited for her to get up and get going again.

  “Are the bad guys that close?” she asked.

  “Close enough. I figure we’ll be wherever they wanted us to go in the next twenty-four hours or so. We need to get there before they expect us to.”

  Wherever there was. Fear of what lay ahead clenched her stomach in yet another nasty knot. She took a couple deep breaths and climbed to her knees gamely. God, she felt awful. But when the choice was awful or dead, she’d take the former.

  Tex held down a hand to her. Gratefully she took it and let him tug her to her feet. He didn’t let go of her hand. He tugged again, pulling her gently into his arms.

  “Can you keep going?” he murmured.

  Relief washed over her like cool rain. He hadn’t lost control like her father would have. There’d been no raging, no frightening outbursts. Just a quiet question of concern.

  “I’m better now,” she breathed.

  He pressed a fleeting kiss on her forehead and released her. It happened so fast, she almost wasn’t sure it had happened. She blinked up at him in shock. Such a gentle gesture. One of reassurance. Affection, even.

  He looked at her for a long moment with those beautiful turquoise eyes of his, like he wanted to say something. Finally he just nodded and turned around. She fell into place behind him, bemused. What in the world had that been all about? Had she read his intent correctly? Was he starting to have actual feelings? For her?

  Tex pushed forward relentlessly. The day was overcast, which held down the temperatures, but the humidity was stifling. At times she felt as if she was swimming rather than walking.

  Late in the afternoon it rained. Raindrops pelted the tens of thousands of leaves around them, creating a deafening barrage of sound.

  Tex, of course, took advantage of the din to go all the faster. She actually had to break into a jog to keep up with the blistering pace he set.

  A stitch started in her side and stabbed her beneath her left ribs. She just gritted her teeth and kept going. How, she didn’t know. But somehow she kept putting one foot in front of the other.

  She slammed into Tex from behind when he abruptly stopped. The ground dropped away in front of him. Another sound became audible. Water flowing.

  She moved up beside him and looked down at a good-size stream. It flowed nearly parallel to their course, almost due north. Tex nodded slowly beside her and she saw a grim smile touch his mouth. Uh-oh. She’d lay odds he was thinking up something she wasn’t going to like.

  “Let’s go for a river walk,” h
e murmured.

  When she thought of river walks, she thought of romantic strolls down artistically lit pathways that meandered beside a river. Oh, no. Tex meant in the river. Above her knees in icy water.

  The water was cold enough to make her bite back a squeal when she stepped in. Tex wouldn’t let her take off her boots, either. Something about cutting her feet and getting an infection from the water.

  “Hey, Romeo,” she called lowly. “An important dating tip. Most girls like to walk beside rivers, not in them.”

  He grinned back at her. “Thanks, Juliet. But I mostly stick to balcony scenes when I wax romantic.”

  She rolled her eyes and splashed forward. The first dozen steps or so were all right. And then “river walking” became unbelievably hard work. She had her choice of lifting her feet high out of the water for each step, which wiped out her thigh muscles, or of dragging her feet forward against the buffeting weight of the water, which was equally exhausting in its own right.

  She alternated between the two methods, stumbling along the uneven bottom of the stream, the swirling water doing its best to throw her off balance.

  The first time she fell down, the abrupt dunking in frigid water stole her breath away. She staggered to her feet, her clothes heavy and soaked. Shivering and miserable, she somehow managed to slog onward.

  By the fourth or fifth time she stumbled to her knees, she was so cold and so soaked she no longer cared if she fell down or not. At least it was a bath of sorts. Maybe her borrowed clothes would smell a little better now.

  How long they walked in that blasted stream, Kimberly had no idea. An hour, maybe. It felt like a week.

  She was so relieved she nearly cried when Tex finally climbed out on the far side of the water and plopped down on a low, grassy bank. “That,” she said through chattering teeth, “was almost more fun than should be legal.”

  He nodded tersely. “In case they’re using tracking dogs, that’ll slow them down by several hours while they try to pick up our scent again.”

  “Hopefully, my scent’s improved after that impromptu bath,” she commented.

  Another short nod. She supposed she should be consoled by the fact that the past hour seemed to have taken some of the starch out of him, too.

  “Get a good drink now,” he admonished. “This may be our last shot at water for another day or so.”

  In another day or so, they might be dead. She pushed the thought out of her head. She was just scared and exhausted.

  Tex flipped over on his belly and hung his head out over the edge of the stream. Using his hand to scoop up the water, he took a long drink.

  She watched, fascinated at the movement of the muscles and tendons in his neck as he drank. The sheer power of the man was overwhelming.

  She mimicked his actions. If anyone had told her three days ago that she’d be lying on her belly in a jungle, lapping up water from a river like a dog while kidnappers chased her, she’d have thought it was the most absurd thing she’d ever heard.

  Her stomach ached from drinking so much cold water so fast. She sat upright and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Tex was craning around awkwardly, apparently patting himself down.

  “Give me your leg,” Tex ordered abruptly.

  “Excuse me?”

  He reached over and grabbed her foot, yanking her whole leg toward him. He pushed her pant leg up.

  “Yup. Thought so.”

  She looked down at a dark brown smudge on her calf. “What’s that?”

  His one word answer sent chills of horror rippling up her spine. “Leech.”

  “Get it off!” she exclaimed.

  “Hush!” he murmured sharply.

  “Well, do something!” she murmured back urgently.

  “Best way to get ’em off is with a little salt, but we don’t have any. I could cut it off, but I don’t need you bleeding all over the place and we’ve got no bandages. A cut like that would infect for sure.”

  She shuddered. “I don’t care what you do. Just get it off of me.”

  He pulled out the cigarette lighter. “Let’s see if a little persuasion by fire works. This may get uncomfortable,” he warned.

  “Just do it,” she gritted out between her clenched teeth.

  He flicked the lighter and held the flame against the leech’s back. The heat burned her skin before the creature finally curled backward, releasing its hold on her. Tex grabbed the squishy thing between his fingers and flung it back into the stream.

  “Let’s have a look at the rest of you.”

  Kimberly blinked, shocked by his suggestion. Tex Monroe’s eyes caressing every part of her body? The very thought pushed her body temperature into the feverish range. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Strip. You fell in the water a number of times. You could have more leeches anywhere.”

  She shuddered from head to foot, her skin suddenly tingling with a thousand creatures crawling and sliming across her skin. She tore off her ragged sweater and cloying pants. “Oh, God,” she said thickly. “Get them off of me!”

  Tex inspected her closely, running his hands through her hair, and even checking her armpits. He was quick and impersonal about it, and she didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

  He found two more leeches, both on her lower legs. He successfully burned them both off, although the combination of the bite and the burn left ugly red welts on her skin.

  She suddenly wanted a hot shower and a good hard scrub more than just about anything in the world. Her skin felt literally alive with creeping creatures, their tiny, sharp feet pricking her flesh. The horror of it nearly did her in.

  When Tex finished inspecting her clothes and declared them free of vermin, she reluctantly shrugged back into the soggy, heavy garments. Their clammy wetness did nothing to alleviate the awful sensations racing across her skin.

  Tex interrupted her waking nightmare. “Since you’re already wet, and we happen to be near water, we probably ought to go ahead and camouflage ourselves.”

  “You mean, the mud-and-grass routine?” she asked in dismay.

  “Yup.”

  How much worse could this day get? Her need to break down and sob grew nearly overwhelming. She couldn’t go on. She didn’t have it in her to deal with one more trial.

  Tex glanced up at her, his gaze keen. After a long moment he spoke, his voice low-key, like he’d speak to a skittish horse. “You’re doing good, Princess. Real good.”

  His simple words were soothing balm upon her soul. With a single remark he’d calmed her frayed nerves enough for her to go on. She took several deep, cleansing breaths. She could do this. Tex wouldn’t ask all this of her if he didn’t think she could do it. An abrupt need to live up to his expectations spurred her to her feet.

  She sighed, steeling herself for another horror. He was only asking her to get dirty. That was all. No eating termites, no more slimy, sucking creatures attached to her flesh. She could make like a pig in swill.

  She followed him as he walked along the riverbank for a dozen yards until he found what he wanted. A deposit of gray-green clay. She watched in disgust as he reached down and scooped up two generous handfuls of the goop and smeared them on his face.

  He looked up at her and grinned. “I always did want to make mud pies with a princess. Come on in and join the fun.”

  She squatted beside him. “Do I have to do the hair, too?”

  “Yup. The whole deal. Head to foot. Easiest way is to just lie down and roll in it.”

  She scowled at him. “If you make one crack about mud wrestling with me, I’ll…I’ll kick your shins!”

  His smile flashed white out of the wet mud covering his face. “Thanks for the warning. I’d hate to see the damage you could do to my poor, innocent shins.”

  Gingerly she stretched out on her back. The clay squished beneath her, making sick, sucking noises. She rolled to the side. Her hair felt heavy and wet.

  Eeyeww.

  She rolled all t
he way over, her eyes screwed shut. The mud was wet and cold and indescribably slimy. She wriggled around in it and then pulled herself free of the muck. She pushed up on to her hands and knees. Her sweater sagged away from her stomach, coated in the heavy mud.

  The poor sweater was done for. This was the last indignity the fine angora would tolerate. But one ruined sweater was the least of her problems.

  She sighed and pushed to her feet. Using her hands, she smeared more of the gunk on her face. “How do I look?” she asked, wincing.

  He grinned reluctantly. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  “Not especially.”

  He scrubbed some mud into his hair like it was shampoo. From under his hands he commented, “I bet you’ve paid good money at a fancy spa to have somebody else do this to you.”

  “You’re right.” She laughed ruefully. “And you can bet I’ll never do it again, either.”

  “Let’s just get you out of here in one piece so you can reconsider that in a few years.”

  She nodded while he grabbed a couple handfuls of mud and hit the spots she’d missed—the back of her neck and around her ears. The sensation of mud smearing on those sensitive places was almost more gross than she could stand. But somehow she survived the operation.

  Rolling around in the grass was much easier. The only problem with that was bits of it had a tendency to poke her once they were embedded in her covering of mud. “How do I look?” she asked.

  “All breaded and ready to fry,” Tex laughed.

  She stuck her tongue out at him.

  Fits of shuddering disgust plagued her for the next hour or so. Her hair dried into long, hard spikes that were almost more than she could bear. They actually rattled when she turned her head fast. The mud formed a rough crust on her skin, and her flesh felt as if it was shrinking and cracking all over her body.

  She was thoroughly sick of the never-ending ocean of green around them. Even the sky was nothing more than a curtain of green leaves in the canopy of the jungle, a hundred and fifty feet overhead.

  And just when she thought she couldn’t get any more miserable, Tex announced they were going to keep moving after dark. She staggered along behind him, so fatigued she could hardly see straight. Time slowed to a stop and her whole existence consisted of the next minute.