It felt like he was. He had pulled her from the wreckage. Tended to her wounds. Was prepared to carry her through the jungle and across mountains if she couldn’t make it alone.
She owed him a lot more than simply an apology for assumptions and accusations made so long ago.
Her head bent, as though weighed down with the heaviness of obligation, Becca trudged in Jet’s wake and did her utmost to keep up with him and not slow him down too much. Something had changed.
Somewhere in the gruelling trek they had been on for so many hours, the atmosphere had changed between them. It had been a gradual thing, a bit like the way the forest species changed from the palm trees to the pohutukawas or the way the sky had clouded over and the air temperature had dropped. Imperceptible while it was happening but suddenly you could see the difference.
Jet had become aware of the change in the moment Becca had smiled and thanked him because that smile had reached right into her eyes and made them glow with a warmth he’d never thought he’d see in her face again.
He could feel that smile touch places inside him that he’d forgotten existed but there was a poignancy in the sensation that made it almost physically painful. The pain was welcome in a way. It spurred him on as he led the way down the gully. Pushing on and ignoring the edges of exhaustion and the real physical pain in his ankle that was getting steadily worse. Thinking about Becca and that smile was an excellent distraction.
A window back in time. To a place where life had been as good as it got. The future had promised everything and more because, for the first time in his life, Jet had felt secure in a family unit.
And Becca had been a big part of that unit. A bright, feisty kid who was becoming an extraordinarily beautiful woman who thought he was the second most wonderful person on earth.
Man, he’d loved that. Right from the start, when he’d seen how lonely she was, there’d been a huge gap in her life that he’d fitted into perfectly. That very first holiday, when Matt had taken him home to the Harding estate, the parents had been absent the whole time. Off on some conference in Egypt, apparently, that had included a cruise down the Nile and had been too good an opportunity to pass up despite the fact that it had covered the entire school holiday period.
Becca and Matt had clearly been used to being under the care of paid staff like the housekeeper, cook and groundsmen. The vast house had an equally grand setting with stables where Becca’s pony had been kept, both an indoor and outdoor swimming pool, a home theatre and full-sized pool table in the games room. There had been trail bikes for the boys to play on in the surrounding countryside that had sparked the passion for motorbikes that had been the catalyst that had brought the ‘bad boys’ together.
Paradise for a teenage boy, in fact, as well as a chance to sample all the good things in life that Jet had only envied from a distance until then but, even as a confused and probably sullen adolescent, Jet had sensed the real gift he was being given.
Friendship and family.
The sense of belonging.
Of being looked up to as someone who mattered. Someone that people really cared about.
It had never been a hardship, giving up hours that could have been spent on the bikes or perfecting a game of snooker to entertain that small girl. Being teased had been a whole new experience for Jet. Being manipulated in a very unsubtle manner because someone was so determined to spend time in his company had been a pleasure all in itself. He’d learned to tease Becca back as he’d followed Matt’s lead. They would spin the process out until nudging the boundaries of causing an upset but they would always capitulate. And she had always known they would.
At school, the bond had been with the three other boys and Jet had always watched their backs. Prepared to fight anything or anyone that threatened what was important to them.
Away from school that bond had been between him, Matt and Becca.
Fierce loyalty and an utter contentment when they’d been together.
He wouldn’t have called it love. Maybe he wouldn’t now, even. It certainly wasn’t the soppy, warm-fuzzy stuff that most people associated with the emotion. It was more like a life force. Like … sunlight and rain. You could survive without them but when they were there, things grew and blossomed and life was an oasis instead of a barren wasteland.
The downward slope of the gully was levelling out. Soon they would start climbing again and Jet’s instincts told him they were getting much closer to their target. Whether they could reach it before dark was another matter. They’d need to stop soon and drink something. Put their masks back on, too, because he could feel a change in the air they were breathing. Soon. But not quite yet because he wasn’t ready to concentrate on the present. He needed to gather up the random shreds of memory and reaction and file them safely away.
It wasn’t as though he didn’t still have a measure of that life force in his life. He got it from Max and Rick and now there were others contributing. Ellie and Sarah and the kids. Baby Mattie and Sarah’s boy, Josh. Jet wouldn’t have admitted it in a million years but the addition of those kids to his inner circle of people was magic. The same kind of window back in time that Becca’s smile represented. But now that he’d seen it again, he realised they were just a pale imitation of the real thing.
And that was why it was causing this peculiar pain. Because you couldn’t go back in time. You couldn’t change something as fundamental as the destruction of hero status and being sacked from the position of being the most important person to someone. As he had been by being blamed for Matt’s death.
Becca had spent more than ten years blaming him. Hating him.
Why on earth would he think that one smile might mean that had changed? It wasn’t the memory that was painful at all, was it? It was hope that her opinion of him had changed and that he could find his way back to that feeling of family. Hope that he knew would get crushed if he gave it any credibility.
He didn’t even stop when the level ground was being left behind and a new and even tougher climb presented itself. It wasn’t that he was trying to punish Becca.
He was punishing himself. For hoping.
Daylight was beginning to fade but Becca barely noticed.
She was numb to everything but the need to keep putting one foot in front of the other and breathe often enough to keep the burning sensation in her chest to a minimum. Taking her sunglasses off would help but the air felt gritty now and her eyes stung. Jet had produced fresh masks for them both when they’d stopped to drink the last of the bag of treated water a while back.
For ever ago. Becca had long since given up trying to keep any track of time. Her brain was as numb as her body but she kept going because if she didn’t, Jet would pick her up and carry her and he had to be already hurting as much as she was. He was definitely limping and she’d seen the way he’d frozen for a moment to shut his eyes and deal with pain when he’d taken too much weight on that foot climbing over a rock not so long ago.
She’d have to see if she could help by strapping it up or something when they finally stopped.
If they ever stopped. Surely they were close to the top of this ridge by now. They might see the settlement building then and it would be stupid to waste hours waiting for daylight if they were within visual range of the people who needed them. The need wasn’t one-sided, either. She and Jet badly needed the closest thing to civilisation on this island. They needed water and food and rest.
A place they could be rescued from along with everyone else.
Staying upright and continuing to move was more than an extreme challenge now. Becca slipped on something loose. Or maybe her legs just gave way. She had to grab at a scrubby bush for a handhold but that was loose, too, and it came away in her hand.
The whole bank seemed to be shivering. Moving. Becca was on her hands and knees. She lost her grip on the bag of supplies and items were spilling out and bouncing away down the slope. Clean, white bandages in their plastic wrappings seemed to glow in the gat
hering dusk. A loud, roaring sound increased and Becca was sure it was inside her head. She was about to faint, having gone past the physical limits she could push herself to.
Being gripped by her upper arms and hauled to her feet was unbearable.
‘No! Just leave me, Jet. You go.’
Jet made no verbal response that she could hear. He was dragging Becca, having abandoned the life pack.
Incredibly, the roaring sound got even louder and the night became a living thing—moving and breathing around them. And then the light changed, flooded with an unearthly, red glow.
Something crashed into the trees nearby.
Jet’s oath was spine-chilling. He was moving faster and Becca was struggling not to fall again.
‘Jet…’
‘Move, Becca. We’ve got to find shelter. That was a rock.’
Another crashing sound came. The crunch of rock on rock. A burst of sparks and the strong smell of scorching.
Much later, Becca would marvel how much difference a burst of adrenaline could make. Muscles she’d thought were useless suddenly came back to life. Her thinking snapped into coherency.
The volcano was erupting again. Hurling missiles into the sky that were landing around them. Lethal weapons, some of which were probably the size of a small car.
Because they were close to the top of this ridge, any cover they might have had from dense forest was gone. Trees were sparse here and bare, rocky formations offered no kind of shelter.
Or did they?
‘There.’ Becca tugged on Jet’s hand, only now realising that they were joined by a determined grip on each other. ‘Under the rocks.’
This bank of rock had an overhang. Not enough to call itself a cave but more than enough to shelter two people from airborne missiles. Maybe.
They were there within seconds and only just in time to save themselves from a shower of small rocks landing within metres of them. Some seemed to explode on hitting the rocks well above them and the sound and light show from the sparks made it all seem like some grotesque fireworks display.
Or how you would imagine the end of the world to look.
Another earthquake shook the ground beneath their feet with a vicious jolt and Becca cried out in fear. They were about to die. Both of them.
I’m sorry.
Jet gathered the terrified bundle that was Becca into his arms and his only conscious thought was the awareness of a deep shame.
Not that it was a shame his life was going to end like this, in the shadow of an exploding volcano. It wasn’t a bad way to go for someone who’d lived on the edge for so long. He might have chosen it, in fact. A sudden death in the midst of a dangerous adventure. Mind you, if he’d chosen it, he would have timed it a bit better.
Like when he was in his nineties, maybe.
No. The shame came from a sense of failure that he wasn’t able to protect Becca and keep her safe.
He was failing Matt.
He was failing Becca.
Most of all, he was failing himself.
He wrapped his arms tightly around her and turned so that it would be his back that got any impact first. He used one hand to cradle her head against his shoulder, letting her bury her face so she wouldn’t see what was happening. He even curled over her protectively, resting his temple on the top of her head. Both their masks had been ripped off somehow in the past minute or two and when he turned ever so slightly, he could press his lips against her hair.
He told himself he was comforting her but he knew he needed the comfort himself just as badly. He didn’t want to die, dammit. Life was too precious and he still had too much he needed to do. And learn. New things to discover that he might not even know existed yet.
Like this … this incredible sensation of holding Becca that was unlike anything he’d ever experienced with a woman in his arms. This was so astonishingly … tender. No wonder he’d never gone looking for it. The sensation seeped into every cell of his body and made him feel curiously … raw.
Vulnerable?
No. He might have an excuse for letting the volcano do that to him but Jet Munroe didn’t do vulnerable. He’d learned not to at a very early age. Probably when he’d been a grubby kid with scabby knees and strangers had been telling him that his mother was gone but that they’d find some nice people to look after him instead.
If he thought of the shape he was holding as simply a frightened woman and not Becca, he might be able to lose that unpleasant sensation that was almost fear. It was OK to be afraid of the natural disaster occurring in the physical world but, if he was going to really protect himself, he had to back away from whatever explosions were happening somewhere in his mind. Or was it his heart?
She was a woman. A virtual stranger now, thanks to the years apart they’d had. But part of her was still the girl he remembered. The bond was still there and that made it impossible to simply let go.
And then Becca’s arms stole around his waist and she squeezed him back, pressing her body tightly against his. She twisted her head to look up at him and because he was so close, with his lips on her hair, he ended up with his mouth only centimetres from hers.
She was looking straight into his eyes and whatever rational thoughts he was trying desperately to cling to shattered and vanished.
This was Becca.
And she was beautiful.
And he wanted her. He needed her.
Kissing her wasn’t any kind of conscious action. It was the result of proximity. Of senses stretched to breaking point by what could very well be the last minutes of life.
Most of all, by sheer inevitability.
This had always been meant to happen.
Reality faded the instant his lips touched hers.
The nightmare became a dream. The culmination of many, many dreams, in fact. All the longing, the desire, the love that had been buried for so long came rushing back with the same kind of force that was still sending fiery missiles to land far too close to this precarious shelter.
It was a dream but it was real, too. The scratch of Jet’s unshaven face. The incredible softness of his lips. The way his hands cradled her head as though she was the most precious thing on earth.
They were both filthy. Battered and bruised and sweaty and so exhausted it felt like being drunk, but none of that mattered at all. This was about. life.
Not just surviving. It went deeper than that. It was beginnings instead of endings. Wiping out a barrier that should never have been there. One that had walled off what was probably the most important part of being alive.
There had only ever been one man for Rebecca Harding and she was holding him at last. Touching him. Able to offer herself without the slightest hesitation or doubt.
The kiss was hungry. As though they were both tasting something they had wanted but been denied for ever. As soon as the pressure eased even a fraction, the contact was snatched back and deepened. Becca clutched at Jet’s head, torn between gasping for air and being unable to tear her mouth from his.
And it wasn’t enough. She pressed her body against his, wanting … what? To slip inside his skin? To be inside him?
No. She wanted him to be inside her. As physically close as it was possible for two people to become. It had to happen. This wanting was so powerful, she would shatter if it didn’t happen. Dragging her hands from his head, totally unaware of any pain in her arm or anywhere else in her body, Becca fumbled for the fastenings of his jacket. Pulling it open so that she could find and touch bare skin.
He caught both her hands and held them hard. Stopping her progress. Did he not want this? Shocked, Becca looked up only to find the heat in the dark eyes so close to hers was just as wild as the fire inside herself. He did want this. As much as she did. He was just checking. Seeking permission to kick away any traces of a barrier.
In answer, Becca reached up to touch his face, running her fingers softly over his lips. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. Offering him her throat. Sending her desire
though her fingertips.
His lips were on her neck in a heartbeat. His hands unzipping her flight suit and peeling it back. They slipped underneath the T-shirt she had on and pushed her bra up so they could cup her breasts, his thumbs soft against nipples that felt as hard as metal.
The cry that carried over the roar of sound around them was unrecognisable and yet Becca knew it had come from herself. She was lost in pleasure so sharp it hurt. Desperate for more. To give as well as receive.
A low growl of sound that blended with the roar of the volcano came from Jet as her hands found their way beneath his clothing and touched what they were seeking. Maybe the sounds and the heat came from beyond this shelter but it seemed unlikely and Becca didn’t care.
She gave herself up to ecstasy and the world outside simply stopped turning.
One day, he might look back and joke about the most explosive sexual encounter he’d ever had but laughter had no place in the aftermath of the unleashed passion that had just occurred.
Mother Nature seemed to be in tune with them. When Jet realised that the edges of paradise were blurring and eased himself gently from inside Becca, the night was very dark. Any glow from burning lava was gone. The eruption seemed to be over.
The roar of sound was gone, too, and it was suddenly so quiet he could hear Becca swallow. He could hear the rasp of the material her suit was made of as she unwrapped her legs and arms from around his body and moved to straighten her clothing.
The sense of loss was surprisingly sharp. Jet moved, too, to lessen its impact. He followed her example and tidied his clothing. Not that he had to do much. How on earth had they managed to have sex like that when they had been virtually still fully clothed?
The silence seemed to grow. He should say something. But what? He knew Becca was watching him but he avoided her gaze while he tried to think of something he could say. Anything. Unfortunately, the words pounding in his head right now were not any he could release.
He had just made love to his best mate’s little sister.
What would Matt think?
Maybe Becca would know what to say. She was grown up. Tough. She could handle anything, couldn’t she?
The Tortured Rebel Page 7