Kiss the Enemy (Slye Temp) (12 page)

She was doing her best to accept needing someone else. So could he.

“Fine, Jane.”  A big arm looped over her shoulders, but when they started moving, he wasn’t struggling as much as before.

She fell into a rhythm, moving with him. That little bit of sleep and some water had revitalized her belief that they would get out of this alive.

After what they figured was an hour of walking— and another two shared bags of water— sweat rolled down the side of her face for the first time in days. Dragan was right about finding a place to hide out. Otherwise they’d lose all the hydration the water was offering. “What time do you think it is?”

“Got somewhere to be?”

Wiseass. “No. Trying to figure out how soon the sun’ll be up.”

“I’m guessing it’s about two in the morning.”

“Daylight’s around what? Six?”

“Five or six.”

That meant they only had about three or four hours to find a place to hide before daylight.

They took water breaks, but kept hiking along the rocky banks of the river. When a thicket of trees or boulders too tall blocked the way, they had to crawl up a slope and work back down.

An hour later, Dragan called a halt.

Margaux took that opportunity to refill their plastic bag again. She stood up and turned to him with the bag open for the tablet. “You need a break?”

“That’s not why we stopped.” He dropped the tablet in and stored the bottle. “We’ve found our hideout.”

She hadn’t seen anything except more humongous rocks, dirt and water. “Where?”

“Over there.”  He pointed past her on the uphill side where a stand of trees grew around boulders that had piled there so long ago vines crisscrossed them. One thick tree had fallen halfway to the ground, stopped by the rocks.

When she squinted, she could see a dark cubbyhole.

That looked like snake central.

If she refused to go, he’d think she was a wimp. Hell, even Indiana Jones hated snakes.

“Ready?” His voice whispered close to her ear.

She turned and knew without asking that he was waiting on her to decide if she could do that. “Neither one of us is petite. Think we’ll fit?”

“Without a doubt.”

Cocky bastard would say that. She nodded. “Let’s go.”

Once they’d made it up the incline, he told her, “Wait here for a minute while I make a set of tracks leading into the water and clear ours when I backtrack.”

She put a hand on his chest. “I’m faster. Why don’t you climb in there and clear a good place to lie down? You know, brush away pebbles and whatever.”

He gave her a long look. One that said he knew exactly what she was doing by sending him into the hideaway first to make sure nothing slithered around. “Fine. You handle the tracks. I’ll check out the sleeping quarters.” 

She stomped all over the ground so it would appear that more than one set of boots had walked into the river. While she was there, she rolled up her sleeve and removed the bandage to wash it out in a small eddy where water swirled. Once she’d wrung out her bandage, the idea of running a wet cloth over her upper body was more than she could resist. She took a look around, determined Dragan was too far to see anything, and pulled off her shirt. She dunked her head and threw wet hair back over her shoulders, then gave her arms a good scrubbing.

The knife wound started bleeding again and aching even more, but cleaning it out had to be better than leaving it dirty.

Not a pristine bath, but just that quick wipe down and rinsing her hair refreshed her. She ripped the white undershirt in half, wrapped her arm as best she could and soaked the other half to take back to Dragan.

Halfway back to the hideout, she paused when a dark figure came towards her. “What are you doing down here?”

“What took so long?”

Was he worried? “I was getting a mani-pedi. What do you think I was doing? I washed up a little. It refreshed me. Here’s a wet rag for you.”

“You should have told me so I could watch your back.”

“I watched my back. You want this rag or not?”

He stuck out his hand and she dropped the sopping rag in it. Then he held out his other hand. “Let’s get back up there before something four footed comes along and likes the cave I’ve cleaned out.”

Too tired to argue, she took his hand and let him lead her back to the spot, because to be honest she’d lost sight of which hole it was now that the moon had dropped so low it wasn’t much use for light.

When he stopped in front of the shadowy outline of rocks and a tree, Margaux suggested, “Use that rag. You’ll feel better.”

She wasn’t stalling. Not really, but if he thought she was climbing into that sad excuse for a cave first, he was crazy.

Dragan leaned a hip against one of the boulders and dropped the rag down next to him. He unbuttoned his short-sleeve shirt and let it fall open while he wiped his face and arms, then his chest. There was just enough light brushing his skin for Margaux to see that they’d worked him over good.

And that Dragan was beefcake quality.

Where was a full moon when she wanted to see his skin glisten where he washed?

And what was she doing thinking about skin glistening? Especially his?

Dragan pulled his shirt back together, buttoned it and laid the rag over the rock where it could only be seen from overhead. “Thanks. That does feel better.”

“You’re welcome.” She looked around.

“Let’s unclip our belts. I cleared enough room to stash them near our heads on this end of the cave.” 

She didn’t want to give up her weapons, but she couldn’t sleep on her side with all this wrapped around her waist. She compromised by removing her belt, but kept a knife and left her boots on. Something that crawled would end up sleeping in them if she didn’t.

After Dragan bunched their belts and pouches at the head of that hole he was calling a cave, he asked, “How’s your arm?”

She turned back to find him right next to her. “It’s fine.”

His fingers touched her face. The first gentle touch she’d had in so long she closed her eyes, soaking up the way that simple contact soothed her. Every bit of her body hurt, but his fingers were a balm that dulled the ache. She stood like that for a long moment, then he kissed her.

His beard tickled her face. She didn’t like beards. Hadn’t until now. But this was wrong for some reason. She murmured against his lips, “What’re you doing?”

He stopped long enough to say, “It’s called a kiss.”  Then his lips were back to learning hers, brushing softly.

She shouldn’t be kissing him. Not this man.

Her good arm didn’t get the memo. She reached up to hook her hand on his shoulder. His hands moved down to wrap her waist and pull her close to him until they were chest to chest. She could feel each breath he took. Each beat of his heart. He felt so solid and warm.

She was tired of fighting and running and always alone.

His hand slid up her back, fingers gently massaging her muscles.

Her eyes closed. She soaked up his comfort. So nice ...

She blinked and realized she’d fallen asleep against him.

“Ready to check out the accommodations?” he asked in a weary voice.

“So this is the spot, huh?”  She pushed away from him and acted as if she hadn’t just crashed in his arms.

“This is it. Let’s get some rest.”  His fingers slid down her arm to her hand, giving her a little tug. “You first.”

“No.”

“I checked it out. There’s nothing in there.”

“You just want to be last so you can be between me and any threat. That’s bullshit since I’m in better shape than you.”

He sounded whipped when he sighed. “I know you’re a badass. Do we have to keep battling for who’s the baddest badass? ’Cause I’ll go ahead and forfeit.”

Why did she feel foolish when he put it like that? “I just ... don’t want to be closed in. Okay?”

Would he argue or badger to get what he wanted? Badgering someone usually worked for her.

But he didn’t. Dragan just said, “Okay,” and lowered himself to his knees then rolled into the hole. “I’m in.”

She could do this.
Don’t think about being stuffed in a dark closet where things crawled on you while you screamed until you had no voice.

Margaux took a couple deep breaths, expecting him to bark at her to hurry up, but he didn’t. She dropped down on her knees, then to her side and scooted back a little at a time until Dragan’s big arm wrapped around her waist and slid her smoothly up against his chest.

Spooning in the jungle. Scratch that off the bucket list.

When he pulled her to him, her head ended up on his shoulder and his arms closed around her. She realized then that he’d gotten his way after all. He had her tucked deep in the recess and surrounded her. Her stubborn pride wanted to say something, to let him know she didn’t need to be protected.

But for the first time in a long time, she gave in.

She even liked feeling protected, but she would never admit it.

He didn’t move his hands, didn’t say a word or push any boundaries. Did he know that his stillness was alluring? That the slower he breathed, the more content she was to just lie here and accept the peaceful feeling of being held against his warm body, caught in the luxury of his arms.

She should be hot in the jungle, right? Why did his heat feel so good? She hadn’t felt cold in the hut, but maybe the temperature dropped in the jungle at night. She’d have to ask Tarzan tomorrow. He hugged her closer against him and she decided to let him have his way.

With a few hours of rest, she’d be ready to hike across whatever country they were in. She shivered. Had to be warmer once the sun came up. Maybe Tarzan knew a plant to put on her arm and stop the throbbing.

Sweat trickled down her neck and she shivered again. That made no sense.
Figure it out tomorrow
.

Exhaustion claimed her.

CHAPTER 14

Logan came awake at the sound of something—or someone—moving around nearby. He shouldn’t have nodded off for so long, but there was only so much a body could take.

From the soft light outside, he guessed it was barely dawn.

The sound of dry grass being stepped on and pushed aside rustled softly.

He remained perfectly still, hoping Violet, aka Jane of the Jungle, stayed asleep until he determined what was out there.

She slept on her side, spooned close to his chest. He slipped his fingers around the stock of the pistol he’d placed on the ground in front of her, keeping it within easy reach. She should be sleeping behind him where he could shield her, but the hardheaded woman wouldn’t hear of it, so he had her wrapped as securely as he could in his arms.

Not that he was complaining at the moment.

Asleep, she was soft and pliant, fitting perfectly along his body. Dark hair fell across her face and over her shoulders. He’d finally get a good look at her when the sun showed up.

But he wouldn’t disturb her yet just to see her face. She was conked out.

Another whisper of noise reached his ears. Whatever was out there kept coming closer.

Logan gripped the weapon, his senses alert and sharp again.

An animal moved slowly into view, walking past the front of their hideout.

He let out the breath he’d been holding when he realized the wild cat wasn’t a jaguar or puma. It went about twenty pounds, and had a dark, grayish-brown coat. A jaguarundi that preyed on small animals and stayed around water. Logan had bedded down in its hunting grounds.

Pausing, the animal sniffed the air in Logan’s direction, eyes narrowed, considering what it scented, then the cat faced the river again.

No problem.

Not until the warm body in Logan’s arms moved and let out a groan.

The jaguarundi froze, ears pointing up, tufts of fur lifting on its back.

Logan covered Violet’s mouth with his hand. She went rigid, now fully awake.

It might not be a large cat, but it was still dangerous and Logan didn’t want to risk the sound of a gunshot or to kill the animal unnecessarily. Several tense seconds passed before the cat relaxed its stance and moved down the slope to the river.

Logan released a sigh filled with relief. He placed the pistol back down in front of Violet again. Her muscles eased as the threat passed. He moved his hand from her mouth, but paused to brush his thumb across her cheek. She didn’t say a word or react. That just made him want to run his hands all over her and feel every inch of that Amazon body. Hell, he wanted to do a lot more than feel the curves of her body.

It was surprising what a little sleep, water and even that cool wash down last night could do to revive him.

She adjusted her position, which bumped her butt against his dick.

Heat pooled in his groin and he couldn’t think past the urge to touch her.

Just what she needed. Some horndog panting after her.

Hell of a time to feel something for a woman. In fairness to his deprived body, when was the last time he’d just slept with a woman in his arms? He couldn’t recall, because lazing around with a female equated to being involved and that did not happen on an op,
wouldn’t
happen again at this point in his life anyhow.

Not after he’d left one in danger years ago.

He’d been sure she was safe from any threat. He’d been in Paris only to do surveillance, and her apartment turned out to be the perfect place for observation. She’d made it clear she was not a woman to get serious about so he’d planned to kiss her goodbye when his job was done and forget about her.

But she’d turned out to be so much more than a casual affair.

And he’d almost gotten her killed when he was called to extract a Russian diplomat wanting to defect.

He’d never met another woman who’d reached inside and cupped his heart, and didn’t intend to make that mistake again. He had another ten, maybe fifteen years, of fieldwork in him. He wasn’t tossing that aside for any woman or hooking up with one just to leave her alone at home always waiting for him and wondering if he’d make it back.

So why did this woman have him on edge?

She had secrets and he hated secrets.