Breaking Point (23 page)

ZACH HELPED NATALIE to her feet, fighting the urge to hold her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She fastened her hip belt. “I’m not that fragile, for goodness’ sake.”

“Let’s go. We’ve got some catching up to do.” He slipped into the night vision goggles, then led her down the hillside, regret taking some of the glow out of his postorgasmic high.

He didn’t regret having sex with her. What red-blooded, heterosexual man would? True, shagging in the middle of the desert in the middle of the night in the middle of what was essentially a war zone was not an act of tactical genius. In fact, it had been flat-out irresponsible. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. But he was sorry for the way he’d handled it.

She deserves tenderness, McBride. You just shoved her onto her hands and knees and fucked her.

To be fair, she
had
started it, and she
had
come. It was not as if she hadn’t enjoyed it. But he’d been so rough with her. After everything she’d been through . . .

If you had waited until it was safer, until you had more time . . .

He would make it up to her when they reached Sells. In the meantime, he was going to find where he’d put the damned condoms he’d bought and make sure he kept one where he could easily grab it. The chemistry between them was combustible. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to lose control and come inside her, and he did
not
want to do that to her.

He glanced back to make sure she truly was okay, then focused his mind on footprints in the sand, not because he wanted to track the drug runners who’d passed by them, but because he wanted to avoid them. He’d watched them disappear beyond the draw just ahead. If he and Natalie followed the draw west, they might be able to avoid them and still stay on course. The traffickers had clearly heard them and knew someone else was in the area. They would be ready and waiting.

He crouched down as they neared the draw, his gaze searching through thick stands of mesquite, looking for any sign of movement.
Nada.
“This way.”

They traveled west along the draw until it vanished into a tangle of tamarisk and ocotillo, then made their way carefully northward again, flushing a small herd of javelinas out of a patch of prickly pear where they’d been feasting.

“Look!” She pointed, a smile on her face. “Wild pigs!”

“They have razor-sharp tusks, so don’t try to hug one.”

Zach kept his gaze on the sand, wishing he had Jason Chiago’s skill with cutting sign. But Jason had been born to it. He could read the desert like no one Zach had ever seen. Zach had trained with him for a couple of weeks during his first year with the Marshal Service. He’d learned a lot, but not enough to match even the least skilled Shadow Wolf.

They stopped at 0300 hours to rest and refuel, Zach introducing her to the joys of MREs.

“That’s a fudge brownie?” She stared down at the food in her hand. “It tastes more like—”

“Chocolate-flavored cardboard? Eat the entire thing. You need it.”

“Yes, sir!” She gave him a mock salute, but dutifully took another bite, washing it down with a sip from her hydration pack.

She still hadn’t uttered a single word of complaint, but Zach could see the exhaustion on her face. “I had planned to go on past dawn. Are you up to that?”

She nodded again.

But two hours later it was clear that she wasn’t going to hold out. Dead on her feet, she stumbled after him, misery and fatigue etched in every feature of her pretty face.

“We’re going to find a place to camp and stop for the night.”

“Okay.” She started to sit.

He grabbed her shoulder harness and drew her back to her feet. “Not here, angel. We need to find someplace sheltered. Stay with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Thirty minutes later he’d found a rock ledge overhanging a space wide enough for the two of them. It was protected on one side by a gully and hidden on the other by a thick stand of mesquite. Best of all, it faced west—away from the rising sun.

He took Natalie’s pack and sat her down on a nearby rock with orders to eat another so-called brownie. He made sure the area under the overhang was arachnid and snake free, then set out the wool blanket he’d brought. Grabbing two ibuprofen from his pack, he carried them to her. “Take these, then drink the rest of your water.”

She didn’t even ask what the pills were, but swallowed them with several gulps from her hydration pack.

“It’s bedtime.”

“Thank God.” She stood, took his hand, and let him lead her to the little camp he’d made, her movements wooden. She stopped and glanced upward, speaking in a sleepy voice. “I never knew there were so many stars.”

He sat on the blanket. She sat beside him, her head falling against his chest. And he realized that she was already sound asleep.

Chuckling to himself, he lowered her to the blanket, removed his jacket, and draped it over her to ward off the nighttime chill. Then he grabbed the AK and leaned back against the rock to keep watch, his gaze returning again and again to her face.

 

NATALIE WAS SOUND asleep when something jabbed her on the butt—hard. She opened her eyes, found herself lying on her stomach on a thick wool blanket, the sun already up. And for a moment she thought she’d imagined being poked.

Then it happened again—a painful, sharp jab.

She rolled over, saw something big and black standing beside her, and screamed.

Whatever it was—a big ugly bird—screamed, too, flapping its wings and jumping away from her. Then it spread its wings and, with a few hops, took to the sky.

Heart hammering, she watched it fly away, big black wings flapping.

Then off to her left she heard what sounded like a choking sound. Zach stood there, biting his lower lip, clearly trying very hard not to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” She sat up, feeling more than a little surly. “What was it? And what was it trying to do?”

“That was a turkey vulture.” He’d quit laughing, but there was a broad grin on his face. “I think it thought it had found some very fresh meat for breakfast.”

Hot now, Natalie pulled off her jacket. “It scared me to death.”

“You scared
it
to death. Imagine how you’d feel if you stuck your fork in a nice, juicy steak only to have it moo and jump off your plate.” He started laughing again.

“What if it had taken a chunk out of my . . . ? Where were you?”

“I was over there taking a leak.” He squatted down next to his pack, drew out sanitizing hand wipes and wiped his hands. “Go back to sleep, Little Miss Grumpy. I promise, I won’t let the mean birdies eat your behind, though I can’t blame them for wanting a piece of it. It is pretty damned delicious.”

His playful words stirred memories of last night’s crazy sex in the bushes, breaking through her bad mood and making her smile. She’d never experienced anything like it. It had been animal sex—primal, rough, out of control, and with just a hint of real danger. Though she’d had sex with Beau in that position before, she’d never been able to climax. But with Zach, it had been so easy, so natural, so—

No. Don’t compare them. You can’t compare them. Beau was your fiancé, the man you would have married. Zach is just . . .

What was he?

Her protector with benefits? Her temporary lover? A desert fling?

Too tired to think about it and in dire need of her own bathroom break, she crawled across the blanket, then stood, careful not to bump her head on the rock overhang. Every muscle in her body screamed. “Ooh . . . God.”

“Sore?”

She whimpered, in too much pain to care how undignified it was.

“Let’s get some breakfast in you, and then more ibuprofen. And then you really do need to sleep.”

“What time is it?”

“About seven thirty. You’ve been asleep for a little over two hours.”

No wonder she felt like death.

And then it hit her.

He hadn’t slept at all.

CHAPTER 17

AWAKENED BY THE oppressive midday heat, Zach opened his eyes to see a small blue and tan lizard doing what looked like push-ups about a foot away from his face. Up and down it moved, then froze and looked at him in what was clearly a territorial display. It pumped out a few more, then froze again. “Yeah, you’re bad.”

Zach glanced at his new watch for the time and temp—1320 hours and 114 degrees. He sat up, frightening the lizard away. Then, leaving Natalie to sleep, he grabbed his rifle and binoculars and did a perimeter scout, looking for any sign of human beings nearby. Baboquivari Peak rose to the northeast, reigning over the parched landscape. Apart from insects, lizards, birds, and a few pronghorns off in the distance, nothing was moving in this heat. Everyone was pinned down until sunset.

By the time he returned to their little haven of shade, his hair was damp, his T-shirt stained with sweat. He set the rifle down, munched a handful of nuts, then washed them down with a long drink from his hydration pack.

Beside him, Natalie lay sleeping, her face turned toward him, cheeks flushed from the heat, strands of hair sticking to her damp skin. He didn’t think he could ever get enough of looking at her. Her creamy, almost translucent skin. Her thick, dark lashes. Those graceful, dark brows. Her sweet little nose. Those high, delicate cheekbones. The dimples that showed when she smiled. Her soft, full lips.

Watching her sleep, it wasn’t hard to believe that a woman’s face had once launched a thousand ships and started a war.

Three days max, McBride. That’s all you get.

He reached for a gallon of water, one that he hadn’t yet mixed with
suero
, the lemon-flavored electrolyte powder. Then he fished through his pack for the bandanas, wetted one, shed his shirt, and wiped the cool, wet cloth over his chest, throat, and face before tying it loosely around his neck, where it would help keep his body temp down.

He wetted the second bandana, then pressed it against Natalie’s cheeks, throat, and forehead, smoothing her hair back from her face.

She stirred in her sleep, murmured something that sounded like his name, then her eyes drifted open. She looked up at him, still half-asleep. “So hot.”

“Hell, yeah, it is. You should drink.”

“I’m so tired of that electrolyte stuff.” Her expression became a cute little pout. “What I wouldn’t give for a glass of genuine Southern sweet tea the way my mama used to make it—black pecoe, real sugar, ice, no lemon.”

“Let’s see what I can do to cool you down.” He poured more water onto the bandana, then gave it a gentle squeeze, letting the water drip into the divot between her collar bones. He caught the drops and spread them across her throat, then bent down and blew across her skin to make up for the lack of breeze.

“Mmm.” She turned her head, giving him access to first one side of her throat and then the other. “That feels good.”

Just as had happened under the bridge, her response aroused him. Only now, having already crossed the line into a sexual relationship, he no longer felt the need to deny himself.

He reached down, caught her T-shirt, started to pull it over her head.

She caught his hand. “But I’m all sweaty.”

“So am I.”

He drew off her shirt and felt that now familiar hitch in his chest at the sight of her. Her nipples were smooth and full from the heat, but the flush that rose in her skin as he looked down at her had nothing to do with the temperature. Blood rushed to his groin, even as the bruises that Zeta bastard had left on her breasts reminded him that he’d vowed to show her tenderness.

She was wide awake now, one hand resting against his chest, her other arm stretched above her head, her gaze following his every move.

He wetted the bandana once more, then squeezed it out, leaving a trail of droplets from her navel to her breastbone. He spread the droplets over her belly, across her rib cage, over her breasts. Then, as he’d done before, he blew across her skin.

She arched, sucked in a quick breath, her nipples puckering and drawing tight before his eyes, goose bumps rising on her skin.

It felt like such a luxury, just being with her like this—a few perfect hours after years of ugliness. Zach savored it, refusing to rush. He had no goals, no plans, nothing he wanted to do right now beyond giving Natalie pleasure.

Guided by her sighs, he kissed a lazy trail across her belly, stopping to taste her navel. He nipped at the pebbled tips of her breasts, then kissed their satiny undersides. He kissed the sensitive skin of her throat, licked her closed eyelids, teased her earlobe with his tongue, all the while raking her ticklish ribs with his fingertips. And then he couldn’t help himself. He lowered his mouth to her nipples and suckled.

She slid her fingers deep into his hair, her body tensing and shifting beneath him, her sighs now moans.

“God, you’re beautiful.” It wasn’t poetic, and it didn’t express how he felt on the inside, but it was all he had.