Kiss the Enemy (Slye Temp) (13 page)

That had to be it. He had to know everything about anyone he encountered, especially on a mission.

Didn’t take much to figure out that she was someone who kept her secrets locked in one hell of a protective fort and, damn him, he couldn’t stand it. He wanted to slip inside when she wasn’t looking and find out who lived behind those walls. To unmask her for real and discover everything about her, like why she wanted to meet the Banker, who she worked for and ... to be honest, what it was about her that had him rock hard even in
this
situation.

He could admit to himself that he wanted her, but that didn’t mean anything would come of it even if his dick didn’t care what side of the law she lived on.

That
wasn’t going to happen.

Besides, this was nothing more than a residual effect of getting himself just as turned on as she’d been when he’d had her in the hotel suite, telling her how he had to
prepar
e her for Nitro, the man she’d
thought
was Dragan.

Had Nitro made it out of the Trophy Room alive?

God, he hoped so.

Logan’s team was exceptional and Nitro was one creative son of a gun when it came to exit strategies on the fly. Still, leaving any of his men alone ate a hole in his gut. Going upstairs with Violet had been a gamble he’d lost, and Nitro had better not have ended up paying for Logan’s mistake.

Logan would make a lot of people pay if anything happened to one of his men.

Violet shifted her legs and her bottom brushed him again. Just a simple touch, but she might as well have grabbed him. He knew without a doubt that hadn’t been intentional, but that didn’t stop him from clenching his jaw at the ache that spiraled through his groin.

He had to get out of this hole and move around. Do some adjusting so he could walk. When he could draw a breath and speak in a normal voice, he said, “Morning, Jane.”

He was not calling her Violet any more.

She mumbled something that started with “f” and ended with Tarzan. She stretched slowly then shuddered as if she was cold. He had a memory of her shaking like that during the night and he’d tried to cover her better with his body each time. He’d assumed it was the lack of body fat and extra weight loss causing her to be chilled.

But now that he noticed, the back of her shirt was damp with sweat.

Cold in this heat
and
sweating?

When she moved the arm that had rested on her hip, he saw the stained sleeve where she’d bled through.

Son of a bitch. She wasn’t chilled from the temperature, but from an infected cut. She’d downplayed it by saying she got nicked. How bad was it? He gently grasped her elbow and she tensed again. “Why didn’t you tell me this was a deep cut, Sugar?”

She spoke with a rasp and irritation. “Like you have a needle and thread handy?”

Ah, fuck. The cut was bad enough to need stitches and she’d been losing blood. It had probably clotted since last night so he wouldn’t pull off the wrapping yet, but they had to get to a first aid kit. He hadn’t found any antibiotic in his pouches and if she’d run across any meds in hers she’d have used them.

He lowered her arm gently back to her side.

Muscles flinched in her face and her jaw was rigid. She was gritting her teeth. Had to hurt like hell. But she hadn’t said a word. Damn, what a woman and he couldn’t stand to see her in pain.

When he touched her forehead, she swatted his hand away.

Didn’t matter. He’d felt enough heat to confirm her fever.

This changed everything.

He hadn’t wanted to move during the day and had planned to cross the river a couple of times tonight to slow down any tracking, but waiting to reach civilization or someone with meds meant her infection would only be worse by then.

He put some steel in his voice. “Drink up what’s left of the water and we’ll refill before we get moving.”

“Thought you wanted to stay here a while,” she said with a grogginess he didn’t like.

“I did. We rested, now it’s time to move unless you’re not up for it.” That should raise her hackles enough to get her moving.

“Screw you. I’m fine.”

There was that brawler’s ego he hoped would keep her going until he could find a way to get her out of this place alive. He might have to piss her off nonstop to make that happen. Not a problem if that was what it took to keep her on her feet so they could cover ground more quickly. He’d rather leave her here to rest and hunt down what he needed on his own, but she couldn’t be trusted to stay put. And if she fell asleep she’d be vulnerable to any human or animal who found her.

He let out a disgruntled sigh. “If you’re so ready, move out of here, but slowly so we don’t draw the cat’s attention. Stay under these trees until I’m out, too.” 

Drawing the attention of the cat didn’t worry him so much once they were out of the hole, but her stepping out into view did. Last night she’d been as sharp as any agent he’d worked with, but right now she was not on her game.

She wriggled her way out and got to her feet.

He followed her, feeling every one of his thirty-four years when he pushed up to his knees and stood. She had her back to him, staring out toward the river where the jaguarundi moved with stealth along the bank. The cat was far enough away to not be an issue.

“Strange cat,” she muttered then she took a step.

“Where’re you going, Sugar?”

She lifted her good hand and waved him off without turning around. “Don’t panic. I’ve finally hydrated enough that I need to give some back. Just turn around. I’m not going far.”

He started to argue until she disappeared between the stand of trees and more boulders that fronted them on the high side of the hill. That allowed him a chance for the same nature break.

He’d just returned to the front of their hideaway when she came walking quietly back toward him. The little guard’s pants hit mid-calf on her and she picked at the long sleeves that stopped short of her wrists. Logan would never forget seeing her strut into the Trophy Room on that pair of legs. She’d moved smoothly with confident posture, comfortable with her height where some women that tall tried to downplay it.

Not Jane. She’d swept through the Trophy Room, dragging tongues to the floor and not wasting the time of day on any of them.

Logan had caught her attention when he’d described bending her over that sofa. Damn, he’d love to see her face when he drove into her.

Dream on, buddy.

Speaking of seeing her face, he was finally going to get a look at this woman.

  Sunlight leaked across the horizon and brightened the shadows beneath the trees. Jane stepped into better view, swiping a handful of hair over her shoulder. The sun gave life to the red streaks in dark auburn hair that fell past her shoulders. A half-assed smile tilted one side of her mouth.

She had a sweet mouth, a wide one that reminded him of Julia Roberts. Her bottom lip was cracked from more than being dry. Those assholes had worked her over. She had an ugly bruise across one cheek and another on her forehead.

But that mouth was special. It nudged a memory.

Logan’s gaze traveled up to take in the rest of her face. Narrow nose and high cheeks. And a mass of auburn hair. She sure seemed familiar.

A lot of women had those features, but not arranged exactly like that.

The skin tingled along Logan’s arms when he finally met her gaze.

He stared at eyes too deep a shade of green to be forgotten.

No fucking way.

CHAPTER 15

Dragan’s face had been pounded to the point it was painful to look at him, but what Margaux could make out about his eyes looked shocked. They were brown or maybe a dark hazel color. Hard to say with him squinting and her throbbing arm demanding her attention.

She couldn’t stop the constant pain thrumming in her arm so she focused harder on Dragan.

Why did he seem so surprised? Granted, she didn’t look like the bombshell who’d walked into the Trophy Room, but he didn’t have to gawk.

She cocked an eyebrow and planted her feet. “Disappointed I’m not the blond you were panting after or surprised to find out I really don’t have purple eyes?”  She rubbed her tired eyes, muttering, “They washed my contacts out with the first bucket of saltwater in my face, but they were only cosmetic.”

When her vision cleared, he was frowning, still hung up on something.

“Your bruises look worse than mine, Tarzan.”  She stared at the middle of his face. “Is your nose broken?”

“It was. I fixed it.”

The bruised nose dropped him a point on the attractive scale, but fixing it himself raised his badass level by ten so he was still in beefcake range. Especially if lethal men turned you on. She had bad wiring somewhere, because spooning with this one had been more comfortable than she’d like to admit.

He’d been an intimidating personal protector back at the Trophy Room, but out here he was downright deadly.

The black beard that had been thick, but neatly trimmed when they’d first met was now a wild, bushy thing. And he did have some ugly ass bruises. A yellow-and-blue one peeked out from the black hair falling over his forehead. One eye still had plenty of swelling. So much that she questioned if he’d have decent peripheral vision. That nose had a nasty gash over the top, but it did look straight.

That had to hurt like a bitch when he fixed it.

“You got the plastic bag?” he asked, moving on past their rough appearance.

Water. Her throat was dry as old socks. She reached inside her shirt and pulled it free. There was maybe a cup left. She took a good swallow and handed the balance over to him.

After he drained it, he kept the bag. “I’ll get more water. You stay here—”

“No. Someone’s got to watch your back.”

He closed his eyes and did a little headshake over something then opened his eyes and crossed his arms. “Today will go much better if we don’t argue every point.”

“You mean if I don’t argue with your
orders
.”  She was tired, hot, thirsty and miserable. Someone should warn him against pushing her right now.

“I’m the one familiar with this terrain,” he pointed out, angling his head in a way that said he waited for her to top that.

“Yes, you are, but you can’t just make decisions for both of us. If we stay together we have a better chance of defending ourselves as a team.”

“But if I go down there alone, I’m less noticeable.” 

Her head and arm throbbed in tandem. She rubbed her neck. “Then we’ll have to be less noticeable together. After that, we’ll start working our way down the river like you were talking about yesterday.”

He glanced away. “That’s changed.”

“Why?” 

“I’ve had some rest and time to think through a better plan.”  He lifted a hand to scratch his beard and spoke in a low volume, just loud enough for her to hear. “They’ll be out hunting us by now. They’re better rested and fed so it won’t take long to catch up to us once they pick up our trail. Way I see it, the leader is staying in camp and sending out the other three in the most likely directions, which would be down to this river unless ...”

Her head wanted to explode. Or she wanted it to explode. Anything to unleash the pressure. Sweat dripped into her eyes. His deep voice rumbled on. Her mind wandered. She wiped the sweat out of her eyes and shook with a hard chill.

Her arm burned with infection.

She’d be a liability if she didn’t keep a grip on reality.

He paused. “You okay?”

What had he been saying? She snapped, “Fine, just stop boring the shit out of me and tell me what you want to do.”

“Backtrack to the kidnappers’ camp.”

“What?”  She had to be delusional from the fever setting in, because she couldn’t have heard him right. “How is
that
a good plan?”

“I can keep us alive for a long time in a jungle, but we don’t have any idea where we’re headed. We could end up going deeper into the jungle instead of toward civilization. Their leader had a sat phone. We get our hands on that and I can get us out of here.”

She had to admit it was decent plan
if
they were in better shape and had more weapons. But she didn’t have any idea where they were going or how long they’d survive out on their own. This was not her scene and she was ready to do whatever it took to get the hell back to her pavement and exhaust fumes.

If Dragan had people who could extract them, she was all in for going after that sat phone.

Then all she’d have to do was escape him and his people.

Had to be easier than this once she had food, more water and sleep. She nodded. “Okay, good plan. I still want to watch your back.”

“Keep your pistol out and stay close.”  He shoved the plastic bag inside his shirt, leaving his hands free when he turned and started down the hill. When he dropped into a crouch, moving through the tall grass, she followed suit, carrying her pistol and dogging his steps.

It took a while moving so slowly, but they finally reached a spot where both of them could slip into a shadowy area between two stacks of rocks and boulders. It was a tight fit in the narrow passage, but Margaux turned her back on Dragan to watch the jungle while he filled their water bag.

She held the pistol in her non-dominant left hand since her right one was worthless.

The ache in her head kept up a steady thumping. She could be more miserable, but it would take too much effort to figure out how. As bad as it had been back in Atlanta where she’d been stuck in her apartment facing an unknown future, Margaux would gladly take that right now in heartbeat.

She’d screwed up so much. Lost the only contact to the Banker. Got caught. Put this guy Dragan in a jam with her.

The scenery blurred and her head dropped forward. Her arm felt twice the normal size and her body had turned into a human furnace.

“I’ve got the water. You through catnapping?” Dragan asked right next to her ear.

Margaux snapped her head up so quickly, she bumped Dragan who cursed in two languages. Had she hit his nose? Damn. “Sorry.”