Hot Soldier's Chase

by Cindy Dees

  She smiled up at him, reaching for the width of his shoulders. But he forestalled her. “I found something while I was out. See if you can tell what it is by feel.” He put one hand across her eyes, blocking out what little light there was.

  Her other senses leapt to heightened function. Cool air caressed her skin, and the jungle sounds seemed even louder. She waited, curious. And then something trembled against the back of her hand so lightly she could barely feel it. It touched her again, on the stomach this time. It was impossibly soft. Weightless. It tickled.

  She squirmed under the sensation. “What is it?” she asked as it trailed down the length of her arm, raising goose bumps as it went.

  “A peacock feather,” Tex murmured.

  He trailed the feather up the inside of her calf this time. Her legs fell apart at the gentle caress and the feather continued its path up the inside of her thigh. Tex touched her all over with the feather, tantalizing her with it until her whole body was hyperaware, hypersensitized.

  And then his fingertips replaced the feather, touching her lightly, unpredictably, all over her body. Her skin tingled. Her breasts ached. She burned from head to toe. And then she lurched practically off the bed when his mouth closed on her most private places without warning, his tongue swirling hot and wet over the swollen throbbing of her core.

  She groaned deep in the back of her throat.

  His hand reached up and closed over her mouth. “Shh, we’re very close to the rebels,” he murmured.

  But then his mouth closed on her again, driving her out of her mind. She bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from crying out as he drove her over the edge of pleasure again and again.

  Her limbs trembled all over and she had no strength left to move by the time he rose up over her. When a burning sword of steely flesh replaced his mouth, she thought she’d die from the pleasure of it. Somehow her body began to move again, responding to the pulsing intensity of his. She wrapped her limbs around his heat and strength, clinging to the solid bulwark of him in a storm-tossed sea of desire.

  Their desire churned and surged around them, and he became the wild waters, climbing to impossible heights and crashing down in breathtaking drops that tore the breath out of her lungs. Their bodies lunged and pounded into each other like wild flowing rapids. She gasped for air and he was there, taking her cries into his mouth, devouring her with unfettered need.

  They drove each other onward, ever higher, ever more frenzied, until finally their desire broke upon itself and exploded in a rush of sparkling droplets and white foam.

  Slowly the waves of pleasure retreated, leaving behind the bedrock of Tex’s shoulders, the solid, reassuring presence of his big, warm body. He was an island of humanity, of sanity, in the midst of this alien, inhospitable place. She clung to him, even after the tremors of excessive pleasure ebbed and departed from her body.

  Tex was her touchstone in the midst of this madness. No matter how angry she got at his misplaced hero complex, or how much his “I’m in charge” attitude irritated her, he was always there for her. Steady. Smart. Strong. Solid.

  How could such a dangerous man feel so safe to her?

  She’d seen the results of his work already. He’d shot and killed a man without so much as flinching. He could undoubtedly kill with his bare hands. Heck, he probably had. But when he laid those hands on her, touched her and held her, she felt more sheltered, more protected, than she had in her entire life. It was amazing having someone look out for her for a change, someone who believed she could do a tough job, but who was there with a helping hand whenever she needed it.

  He rolled onto his back and she settled into the crook of his arm.

  Her first day in the jungle seemed like a distant memory to her now. She’d been so terrified. So out of her element. So completely clueless.

  It wasn’t as if she felt totally at one with the jungle now, but she knew what to expect. Knew how to react. So slowly and quietly that she hadn’t really even noticed it, Tex had taught her how to survive out here. If something happened to him tomorrow, she had enough faith in her new skills that she would make it out alive one way or another. When had that happened?

  Tex had the same quiet confidence, too. She’d labeled it being a chauvinistic jerk initially. But that wasn’t it at all. He knew his capabilities and had faith in them. Could she put the same trust in his skills as he did?

  “A penny for your thoughts.” His smooth voice drawled like honey in her ear.

  “I was thinking about whether or not you’re as good as you think you are.”

  “At what?” he asked, sounding distinctly alarmed.

  It dawned on her that saying something like that to a guy immediately after making love with him maybe wasn’t exactly the best timing. Giggling, she clarified, “I was thinking about your combat training.”

  He subsided beside her. He was silent for a time and then asked, “Do you trust me with your life?”

  She answered without hesitation. “Absolutely.”

  “Then why don’t you trust me with my own life? I have a pretty powerful vested interest in keeping me alive, you know.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, but in my case, your duty is to keep me alive. In your case, I think you consider death to be a viable alternative in certain situations. That’s what scares me.”

  He shrugged casually, belying the tension in his voice. “But there are some situations worth dying for.”

  “I’ve never seen one. So I have a hard time agreeing with you on that.”

  He grunted. “Lucky you. I’ve seen more than I care to count.”

  “How is it you’re still alive, then?” she asked, perplexed by his logic.

  “Because of superior training, teammates who are completely loyal to one another, and a heapin’ dose of luck.”

  She flinched. “That whole luck thing makes me nervous. I hate the idea of your life hinging upon it.”

  He laughed quietly. “So do I. That’s why I work so hard on the training part and on having the best possible teammates.”

  “Some teammate I make,” she mumbled half under her breath.

  His arm tightened briefly around her shoulders. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’ve held up better than most of the civilians I’ve rescued over the years.”

  She blinked, surprised. That was a high compliment indeed, coming from him.

  “Speaking of which, we both need to get a good night’s sleep. The next couple of days could be pretty rough.”

  She groaned against his chest. She had enough perspective now on his concept of rough to translate his comment in her head. What he’d meant to say was that the next few days were going to be a living hell.

  TEX AWOKE before dawn the next morning to the sound of raindrops splatting on the space blanket he’d spread over them sometime in the night.

  Kimberly’s bed held them off the ground, and the plastic sheet over their heads kept off the rain. All in all, it was tempting to just hunker down in this warm, dry cocoon and bag chasing rebels for the day. He’d love nothing better than to make love to Kimberly in the rain for, oh, twelve or fourteen hours.

  But duty called.

  He dug out his watch and had a look at the time. Another half hour until his alarm went off. He rolled on his side, gathering Kimberly close and checking that the space blanket was tucked in well all around her. She murmured in her sleep and snuggled closer.

  Contentment welled up in him. The deep, bone settling kind of contentment of having found his life’s purpose.

  His life’s purpose? Kimberly Stanton?

  He literally froze in shock at the idea.

  Gradually he forced his muscles to relax. But his mind whirled in near panic. Surely, his feelings for her were just the result of some rescuer-and-victim psychology at work.

  He cast back through his training for recollection of what this was and how to deal with it. The Helsinki Syndrome related mainly to hostages beginning to sympathize with their captors. She was
definitely not his hostage. Especially not after he’d offered her the chance to leave.

  No applicable syndrome came to mind.

  Could it be that he’d actually developed real feelings for her?

  He hadn’t seriously cared for a woman since Emily, and that was over ten years ago. He’d figured for these last couple of years that he wasn’t the type to fall in love since it hadn’t happened again in all that time. He just didn’t have enough faith in any woman’s staying power to give his heart to one and have her walk off with it again.

  But, Kimberly hadn’t left him, and Lord knew she could have. Did she have some hidden agenda in staying with him? But what could she possibly have to gain by staying out here with him? Was she for real?

  Were his feelings real, too? Damned if they didn’t feel real.

  The way his gut wrenched when she was mad at him or when her face lit up in pleasure…the way he craved the touch of her…the way he looked forward to just being with her…the way he stored up things to tell her when he was away from her…

  Shit.

  This was the real deal, all right.

  He was in trouble.

  Deep, deep trouble.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Kimberly woke up to the smell of something cooking over a fire. It sizzled quietly like frying bacon. She opened her eyes, disoriented for a second at the silver plastic over her face.

  Tex looked up when she pushed back the space blanket. His gaze was serious, guarded, this morning.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” he murmured. “I caught us some breakfast.”

  The skinned carcass of some rabbit-sized animal was turning slowly on a spit over the fire she’d built but they hadn’t lit last night. “Smells good,” she commented. “Looks disgusting.”

  He grinned. “I’ll slice the meat off the bones for you so it looks like chicken by the time you have to eat it.”

  “Does it taste like chicken?” she asked dubiously.

  “Actually, it does.” He chuckled quietly. “It was this or snake. I figured you’d prefer the furry mammal over the snake.”

  A residual shiver of terror from the eyelash viper incident whisked down her spine. “Good call,” she said dryly. She noticed belatedly that he was soaked to the skin. “Why are you all wet?”

  “It’s been raining the last few hours. I took a peek at the rebels, who are hunkering down in their tents like I thought they might today, and then I went hunting.”

  “The rebels aren’t moving? Does that mean we might get the day off?”

  He shook his head. “I doubt it. Now that it’s stopped raining, I figure they’ll pack up and move out.”

  Her hopes fell. “At least we’re getting a hot breakfast out of it.”

  He tested the carcass with a stick. “Done to perfection. By the time you get dressed, it’ll be cool enough to eat.”

  She turned away as he reached out with his knife to carve the animal. She would have to give serious consideration to becoming a vegetarian after she got home. The repeated, graphic demonstrations of what it meant to be a carnivore were getting to be a little much for her.

  The rabbit—as it turned out to be—was delicious. Her standards in food had certainly taken a nosedive during the last few days. She never thought she would live to see the day when a plate of French fries swimming in grease and ketchup sounded like ambrosia from heaven. Fortified by the hearty breakfast, she followed Tex out into the jungle.

  Before long she was as soaked as he was. Every leaf she brushed against was drenched, every branch she bumped showered her with water. Fortunately the air was warm, so she wasn’t unduly uncomfortable.

  Tex slowed abruptly. She mimicked the way he set each foot down carefully, easing forward in complete silence. She wasn’t as good at it as he was, but she managed to creep forward in relative silence. He eased down into a crouch and waved her to join him. She moved up cautiously beside him.

  Slowly he pushed a big leaf out of the way.

  She stifled a gasp as a large camp spread out before her. People moved in all directions. Eventually a knot of fifty or sixty men formed in the middle of the tent city. They milled around, tension evident in their movements.

  Tex breathed in her ear, “That’s the group we’ll follow.”

  She nodded infinitesimally. Yup, whatever was up at this camp, that buzzing group of rebels was at the heart of it.

  A man in a full-blown military uniform emerged from a tent and strode toward the group. Tex tensed abruptly beside her as if he recognized the guy. The leader shouted a couple sentences in Spanish over the crowd of men. She didn’t hear any response, but the guy nodded like he’d heard what he wanted to hear.

  The officer spun and headed toward the opposite side of the camp. The motley line of soldiers piled after him. They reminded Kimberly of a pack of dogs, all yipping and nipping at each other’s heels but somehow managing to all head in generally the same direction.

  Tex tapped her shoulder. He eased off to their right, moving around the perimeter of the camp. The wet footing made for exceptionally quiet going, and they moved past the camp quickly.

  Even she could’ve picked up the trail of the rebel unit. They talked and laughed loudly among themselves and walked along an actual path through the towering trees. Someone had hacked the overhanging branches and encroaching brambles well back.

  Tex paralleled the path through the much slower going of the jungle, but that was fine with her. The last thing they needed was to walk right up on the heels of the rebels. They’d been walking for about a half hour when Kimberly jumped at a sudden, sharp crack of sound. Tex bit back a cry of pain and crumpled to the ground.

  Kimberly lurched toward him, panic surging. Oh, God. Had someone shot him?

  She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled forward, frantically searching the thick curtain of green all around them. She didn’t see anyone. As she approached Tex, she heard him sucking air in and out between his teeth. He was folded around his lower left leg, writhing on the ground.

  “What happened?” she whispered in panic.

  He ground out a single word between his clenched teeth. “Trap.”

  She looked down at his leg. Around his ankle was a vicious-looking steel trap, its teeth buried in the leather of his combat boot. She reached down to tug at the two halves of the trap.

  Tex grunted and grabbed at his ankle. “Find the release mechanism,” he groaned.

  She examined the contraption to see if she could divine how it worked. And then something else intruded upon her consciousness. Another sound. A dangerous sound.

  Men crashing through the jungle.

  Coming toward them.

  Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod…

  She searched the trap frantically, looking for a lever, a handle, a hook, a catch, anything to release its deadly jaws. “Tex, I can’t find it!” she cried under her breath.

  The breaking of branches and swishing of leaves was getting closer.

  He reached down to pull at the trap. She put her hands beside his, and they both pulled for all they were worth. The spring eased up a bit, but not anywhere near enough to pull his foot free.

  Several male voices talked quietly, agitatedly, in Spanish.

  Any second now they would burst into the little clearing.

  Out of her mind with fear, she yanked at the chain securing the trap to the ground. The stake it was secured to didn’t budge.

  Tex pulled urgently at her sleeve. “Get behind me. Now. Let me do the talking. Or the shooting.” He fumbled in one of the pouches on the web belt and slammed the red beret on his head.

  She looked up and realized he had the AK-47 out and across his lap. She slid behind him.

  Four men burst into the clearing, all holding rifles at the ready in front of them. Their clothes were filthy and ragtag. They were ill kempt and had terrible teeth. They reeked of poverty. These weren’t rebel soldiers. She nearly sobbed in her relief.

  At the sight of Tex and her, the men sto
pped in their tracks.

  Tex burst out in rapid, angry Spanish, gesturing at his foot. She knew only about a half dozen words of Spanish, and they were all curses. She heard every single one of them sprinkled liberally in whatever Tex was saying.

  She stared in shock as the four men laid down their ancient rifles. Tex did the same with his weapon, although she noted it wasn’t more than a couple inches from his fingertips.

  One of the men walked forward and knelt beside Tex’s foot. He fiddled with the trap for several seconds. Kimberly noticed that Tex went white around the mouth, but by no other gesture did he indicate that he was in any discomfort.

  Finally, after what seemed like an hour, the metal jaws fell away from Tex’s boot. The guy stood up, shrugging apologetically. Tex shoved himself to his feet. She jumped forward to steady him, but he brushed her hand away.

  She’d heard him gasping in agony only a minute or two ago. She knew how much pain he was in. Why wouldn’t he let her help him? She opened her mouth to ask but caught the warning glare he threw her. She bit back the words and held her tongue.

  Another conversation in Spanish, more casual this time, between Tex and the four men. Whatever story he was telling them, they seemed to be buying it. In fact, they all looked over at her and laughed at one point. She had a feeling she didn’t want to know what Tex was saying.

  Tex asked some sort of question, and the men gestured in the general direction that the rebels had been heading. A quick map even got drawn in the dirt with a stick.

  Tex said something else and the men laughed heartily again. There was one last exchange that sounded like farewells and the four guys moved off into the jungle. She stood behind Tex and watched them go. When silence had settled around them once more, Tex abruptly sagged.

  She dived forward and caught him under the arm with her shoulder. Staggering under his weight, she eased him to the ground. Big beads of sweat popped out on his forehead and he closed his eyes. He was as white as a sheet.

  “Don’t take my boot off,” he breathed. “But could you check out my ankle?”