Terms of Attraction

by Kylie Brant

  Ava held her breath. Because this time the soldiers were heading toward the cells.

  She looked for Cael. Had difficulty finding him. If she hadn’t been searching for him she never would have spotted him wearing that lightweight gillie suit. As if was, after straining for several moments she spotted him a hundred meters to the right of where he’d encountered the first soldier.

  “Guard at left, twenty meters,” she breathed into the whisper mic. She figured he saw him. But why he was maintaining that proximity rather than doing recon from farther out she couldn’t guess. But she was beginning to believe the man did everything the hard way.

  She switched her attention back on the events in the camp. One of the prisoners had been dragged across the compound and was on his knees in front of the officer, who was beating him with the butt of a rifle.

  De la Reyes.

  Ava released the glasses and picked up her rifle. Sighted. Nerves clutched in her stomach. Because there was no commander making the decisions from a nearby command post. No one issuing the weapons tight or weapons loose command. She didn’t dare another communication to Cael as close as he was to that soldier. She’d have to make the split-second decision herself.

  But what would be the right decision to make? Saving de la Reyes by shooting the officer would alert the camp and endanger the other prisoners, making a rescue attempt likely unsuccessful.

  In the end, it was a decision she wasn’t faced with. At least not yet. After beating the president unmercifully, the officer kicked hard at his prone body and had him dragged back to his cell. Ava’s throat was tight. De la Reyes appeared unconscious. But he was still alive. And for now, that was going to have to do.

  Her muscles were tight with tension. She slid the safety back on her rifle and exchanged it for the high-powered glasses again. Fuente wasn’t anywhere in sight. And no matter how hard she scanned the proximity, she couldn’t pick up Cael’s location. She assumed he’d be making a huge circle well outside the outer perimeter of the compound. And because of the risk of detection, his progress would be slow.

  Ava settled herself more comfortably in the notch of the tree and prepared to wait.

  * * *

  “Reynolds was right,” Cael reported tersely as they made their way swiftly away from the camp several hours later. “Any infusion of cash they’ve received from Ramirez has gone into weaponry. For a ragtag bunch of rebels they’re packing state-of-the-art rifles. No reason not to believe they’ve got even more gadgets stored in their artillery shed.”

  “That must be the structure on the front left of the camp,” Ava said. She was moving like an automatom. She’d long since passed the point of simple exhaustion. Her entire body ached from perching in that tree for so long. Her pack seemed to have taken on an additional twenty pounds. And now her boots each seemed to weigh a ton as she slogged through the slick mud of the jungle floor. “I saw a soldier go into it and exchange a rifle for the officer or captain or whoever is in charge.” She hesitated a moment over the memory. It had been after the man had violently beaten de la Reyes.

  “That’s what I figure, too. That’s par for the course with an outfit like this. They’ll spend the money on weaponry, but they aren’t going to use it to update their countersurveillance methods. They’re more concerned with keeping the prisoners in than with keeping people out. And that’s good news for us.”

  “I spotted at least three trip wires.” She hadn’t asked where they were headed. She hoped, prayed, it was back to a spot where they could summon the military and then rest safely waiting for reinforcements.

  He turned and cocked a brow at her. “Good eyes,” he murmured. The admiration in his tone had warmth flickering, proving that everything inside her wasn’t numb. The involuntary response made her impatient with herself. Because of him she’d had to learn to pee in a tree. That wasn’t a skill she’d ever wanted or needed to acquire before now.

  “Actually I found a total of six, all of which I dismantled, and about a dozen booby traps. Strictly low tech. Sentries posted at each of the cells. A half dozen others staggered around the perimeter. Makes it a challenging extraction, but not impossible.”

  “I spotted de la Reyes being beaten,” she said. The image flickered across her mind again, but she firmly pushed it away. It was dangerous to have a connection to one of the parties inside. Made it difficult to maintain the objectivity needed to make sound decisions. “He’s not in very good shape.”

  “I saw it, too.” His voice was grim. “Figured maybe those two soldiers that got shot had been posted sentry at his cell. Their infraction might have been minor. Absolute obedience is demanded in these types of camps. Maybe they were heard talking to de la Reyes. Maybe they accepted something from him. Hard to say.”

  Whatever they’d done had cost them their lives. And had earned the president a serious beating.

  Cael stopped to readjust the weight of the pack he was carrying before forging ahead again. “They’re savages. Remember that. The rules are different here. The only laws governing these people are those imposed by their leader, who sells their services to the highest bidder. Right now it happens to be Ramirez. But when the past president was in power, this same group made it a habit to kidnap and ransom family members of government officials, often women and children. Fewer than forty percent were returned alive.”

  A small lizard skittered over the toe of Ava’s boot. It was a measure of her exhaustion that she gave it only a glance before kicking it aside with her other foot.

  “The soldiers probably won’t have had any special training, but you can bet their commander has been trained by PSB Chinese Intel or former SpetzNatz. He’ll be one to be careful of. Take him out of the equation and we’ll have neutralized the brains of the outfit.”

  “What happens when the guards’ shift changes and the soldier you took out is missed?”

  “The shift already changed,” he reminded her. “I figure they’re rotating on three shifts of eight hours. I’d feel better if I could be sure, though. But unless someone stumbles over his body we’ll be okay. Desertion is a constant problem with these groups. The life is hard. They’ll likely chalk up his disappearance to that.”

  But her attention had splintered. She recognized the place they were heading toward. She’d longed to stop there only hours earlier. “Water,” she breathed reverently. She could hear it again, the sound of a creek running fast nearby. The thought of cupping her hands in it, dribbling it over her face beckoned like a mirage in a desert.

  “Yeah. We need rest. And food. And I have to communicate with Quintero about military intervention.”

  The rest sounded inviting. So did the thought of food. But nothing could compare with the lure of the water itself. Ava could barely contain herself while they climbed up increasingly steep inclines, which made the muscles in her calves weep. She had a focus now. Something to push through the tiredness for.

  But fifteen minutes later when she caught her first sight of the water, she stood, transfixed. She’d hoped for a small stream. Perhaps even deep enough to bathe in. But she’d never expected the beauty she was faced with now.

  The water tumbled over a rocky wall perhaps ten feet overhead and pooled between twin towering boulders before continuing in a stream that grew increasing narrow as it continued to the east. Stray rays of sunlight sent rainbows dancing across it as it cascaded into a narrow pool.

  “Please tell me there are no piranhas or snakes or anything else creepy to worry about in there.”

  “Probably not deep enough for piranhas.” It didn’t escape her that he hadn’t addressed the rest of her concern. “But just to be on the safe side, you should probably content yourself with a shower rather than a bath.”

  She paused impatiently as he stopped and examined the area with his set of high-powered binoculars for five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. Finally, when she was ready to give him a push back down the steep slope they’d climbed, he moved forward. “It looks clear. No reason f
or the rebels to come this far east for water. They had a lagoon several yards to the south of the camp.”

  She pushed him to the side and took the lead, stumbling over the roots and rocks that thrust across the jungle floor. “Okay, you’re filthy, I know that. But I’m still calling dibs on the first shower.” Fairness went by the wayside after tromping through a tropical jungle for hours. She rationalized that he was probably used to it, so the mud he’d slathered on his body could wait another fifteen minutes to be cleaned off. Or twenty. “I promise not to use up all the hot water.”

  Ava reached a hand forward and caught a drizzle from the falls in her palm, nearly swooning with delight. She took off the glasses still hanging from a strap around her neck. Shrugged out of the strap holding her rifle, and carefully set it nearby on a pile of stones. Then gracelessly, she let her pack slide off her back and unzipped it, digging around in it for the fresh set of clothes she’d brought.

  “The most important thing to remember is fresh socks. Dry your feet thoroughly before putting them on,” Cael cautioned. He’d stopped, too, letting his pack slide to the ground, although he retained his rifle. “Check your boots before dressing again in case an unwelcome guest takes up residency in one.”

  But even as she was stripping off her long-sleeve shirt, enjoying the air on her shoulders, left bare by the stretch camisole, a little sliver of guilt was niggling through her. “On second thought, why don’t you go first?”

  He looked up, surprised. “First time a woman’s ever suggested I use the bathroom first.”

  And the fact that he’d obviously had plenty of experience in that department almost made her reconsider her offer. “I’ll use extra Ziploc bags to cover your wounds. Then we’ll need to change the bandages again.”

  Cael looked amused. “I don’t need a nurse. But I appreciate the thought.”

  He should appreciate it. He had no idea what the offer had cost her. “C’mon. The sooner you get in, the quicker it will be my turn.”

  Ignoring his continued protests, she stooped to retrieve the first-aid bag she’d brought. It took a bit longer to find the spare plastic bags she’d tucked away amid the food and equipment. One thing her experience camping had taught her was that Ziplocs and rubber bands came in handy at least as often as any other piece of regular camping gear.

  Her fingers closed around the plastic and she withdrew what she needed. Then she rose, with the spare plastic bags and tape, and turned to Cael.

  Her breath abruptly strangled in her lungs.

  He was stripping off the gillie suit, carefully rolling the pieces up and inserting them in his pack. For someone supposedly reluctant to go first, he wasn’t wasting a lot of time demurring. His undershirt went next and his chest looked as rock hewn as the boulders near the water. She remembered in intimate detail what it felt like under her fingertips.

  Her earlier exhaustion drained away. Nerve endings felt unbearably alive and alert. She became aware of the constant background noise. The gurgling of the water. The chittering of the insects. The squawk of the colorful birds. The jibbering screech of the gibbons and monkeys.

  The scene was primitive. Elemental. They were the foreigners in this environment. The jungle life would continue unmarred when they were gone, as if they’d never been here at all. It was dangerously tempting to think anything that happened here occurred without the promise of consequences and regrets.

  “Ready?” He was holding out his arms for her to cover the bandages. No wonder he hadn’t protested too loudly at the thought of going first. Mud was still caked on his face, neck and hands. The suit had to have acted like a internal oven, elevating his body temperature to unbearable degrees.

  Ava swiftly wrapped the plastic bags over the bandages over his arms, securing them in several places with rubber bands.

  “I’m not fussy,” he said meaningfully, looking at her with an expression she didn’t trust. “There’s plenty of water for two showering at a time.”

  Under no circumstances was she going to let him know that she’d noticed that herself. “Maybe I’m fussy,” she said tartly. And obviously too easily tempted. She ducked around him and grabbed her weapon, strode several yards in the opposite direction, taking great care to keep her gaze from returning to him.

  But in the absence of the visual image, her other senses seemed unbearably heightened. She could hear the heavy thud of his boots dropping to the soft ground. The scrape of his zipper sounded, and she knew he was stripping off his pants. Several moments passed before she heard a different pattern of the water hitting the heavy stones. And she knew he was stepping onto the rocks. That he was now standing nude and powerful below the spray.

  Ava gritted her teeth, willed her concentration off the man a few yards away and on to any foreign sounds that didn’t belong there. But it was difficult to keep her eyes moving over the terrain, yet skirting the one area they most wanted to stray.

  She’d done harder things, hadn’t she? Held position on assignment for hours while the negotiators tried to talk a hostage taker out. Done overnight surveillance in beat-up cars in front of the apartment of whatever drug dealer they happened to be tailing. Boredom was the enemy on those assignments. Keeping senses sharp for that split second when everything could change.

  And she needed sharp senses here, too. In case he’d been wrong about anyone else coming here.

  But as the minutes ticked by, no sound marred the drone of the insects. Nothing was heard that didn’t belong in the jungle chorus. And her nerves stretched and tightened taut as piano wire. Her blood began to throb with a primal sort of beat in keeping with the elemental setting.

  A twig snapped behind her and she spun, bringing up the rifle and sighting with one smooth motion. The large wild pig that had started for the stream froze, stared back at her. In the next instant it turned and plunged back into the jungle with surprising speed.

  Even as she lowered her rifle her gaze went helplessly to the man standing under the water. Found him watching her. He made no attempt to hide his stirring interest, and the sight of his masculinity weakened her earlier resolve.

  It was a moment out of time. As if the rest of the world spun on its axis, leaving this place, this minute untouched. And if the world couldn’t intrude on this space, neither could the worries that followed it.

  He held a hand out to her then, a silent entreaty she knew better than to accept. But her feet were moving of their own volition, her gaze never leaving his.

  He’d slicked his wet hair back with careless fingers and his pale green eyes were alight with a hunger that staggered her. She fumbled a little with the rifle, resecuring the safety and setting it aside.

  The task of unlacing her boots should have given her several moments to come to her senses. Would have, if he didn’t present a carnal picture of arousal. To have that searing intensity focused on her was its own sort of temptation. One she was no longer interested in battling.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d stripped for a man. The act was less seduction than functionality. She wanted to be as naked as he was. Wanted, finally, to feel every inch of his slick skin pressed against hers.

  The dark fatigues were removed next. A muscle jumped in his clenched jaw and she enjoyed his reaction enough to slow her movements. Make them more deliberate. If this was to be a stolen moment, it should be one worth remembering. The urgency drawn painfully tight inside her loosened a notch.

  So she drew out the task of removing her top. Hooked her fingers beneath the hem to bare one inch of flesh at a time. Watched his gaze scorch her with a primitive hunger she didn’t remember ever eliciting from a man before. It made her feel exquisitely attractive, heady with feminine power.

  It was too easy to feel at one in the primitive setting. To feel as basic and elemental as the wildness around them. Especially with this wild pagan tattoo beat in her pulse.

  Cael’s face could have been chiseled from the stone he stood upon. But his eyes were alight with a sava
ge promise that sent little spirals of thrill up her spine. And when she dropped her top to the pile of her clothes, the leap of desire in his expression turned her muscles to warm wax.

  One arm snaked out, still wrapped in plastic, and took her hand, tugging. She swayed, trying to retain her balance, but landed right where he’d intended, in his arms.

  The water spraying over them was colder than she’d expected. But it couldn’t come close to cooling the heat that seemed to scorch her from the inside out. When he set her on her feet, she stepped closer and snaked her arms around his neck, her lips going in search of his mouth.

  Their kiss rocked her off balance for a moment, and she clung to him even more tightly to right herself. His kiss was a demand she fully reciprocated. His mouth crushed down over hers, as if something wild had been unleashed. Something she welcomed. Something she returned.

  Their lips mated, twisting together, tongues and teeth clashing in a tangle of need. The taste of him was hot and wild. Addictive and intoxicating. It sped to her veins and turned her blood molten.

  Desperate need fueled them. As if each was anxious to forget all the reasons they’d denied themselves this. All the reasons it would never happen again. Ava was dimly aware they should slow down. Savor every brush of skin. Every sigh.

  But there was no slowing with lightning jumping and flashing to life between them. No thought of drawing this out, one delicious moment at a time when sensations bumped and collided with each glide of a tongue. With each deliberate stroke.

  His hands streaked over her, leaving liquid fire in their wake. She was just as greedy in her need for the feel of flesh. Her palms swept up his sides on a rollicking exploration. There was pleasure in testing the firm pecs. The heavy shoulders, with their sculpted muscle. The strong, bulging arms. The hair-roughened chest. The flat, firm abdomen. Stopping to caress the hard straining length of him, thick and engorged.