Thrill Ride (6 page)

“Where to?” she whispered, glancing around, blinking against the dimness.

And the answer to that question wasn’t anything she was going to like. So he simply squeezed her fingers reassuringly and tugged her out from behind the tree. Breaking into a steady jog, keeping one ear cocked to the sounds of the teams scouring the jungle behind them, he threaded his way through the dense undergrowth, using his keen sense of direction and the few landmarks available in the shady mass of grayish-green to help him navigate. A couple of interminable minutes later, they reached their destination…a steep embankment that led to the river below. And after the darkness of the jungle, the break in the canopy and the resultant moonlight beaming down on them seemed bright as a spotlight.

“
Merde!
” It suddenly occurred to him that this might not have been the best move. “I didn’t think to ask before but…can you swim?”

“You’re looking at the women’s one-meter diving champ at McLane High in Fresno,” she said.

Rock breathed a quick sigh of relief while simultaneously wondering if there was anything this woman couldn’t do. So far, she’d managed to locate him when Uncle Sam’s most skilled agents couldn’t, track him through the jungle even when he was trying to outpace her, and outrun the hit squad that’d been sent in to put his head on a platter.

Damn impressive.

And before he could think better of it, he blurted, “If we had more time, I’d be sorely tempted to kiss you smack on the lips right now.”

And then it was as if his wish was granted. Because everything came to a stop, the world ceased spinning in its orbit, and she turned to stare up at him, hope and desire and something he dare not name glittering in her dark eyes. “Rock, I…” Her voice trailed away as she took a short, hesitant step in his direction.

Seemingly of its own accord, his chin dipped down.

Right there. Her succulent, heart-shaped mouth was right there, and,
mon
dieu
, her breath was warm. Her thigh bumped his, and he leaned forward, and—

The sound of a twig snapping behind them had them jerking apart and leaping over the embankment. Holding on to each other, propping each other up as best they could, they skidded and slid down the sheer grade. Reaching the bottom, they stumbled into the cool, fast-moving water.

Rock had to release Vanessa’s fingers as the current took their feet out from under them, and he immediately missed her warmth, the soft feel of her small hand tucked trustingly within his own. But he had only a moment to consider what a colossally dumbass notion that was—what a colossally dumbass move
kissing
her would have been—because the current picked up and, suddenly, it was game on.

For several minutes, all either of them could manage was to tread water as the river took them where it wanted. And even though the water was a welcome reprieve from the stagnant jungle heat, Rock couldn’t enjoy the dunking—and the resultant cooling effect it had on his overheated libido—because his heavy pack kept trying to drag him under. He fought it along with the current, all the while scanning the northern embankment for the spot where the rocks protruded into the water. There, in that one particular spot, they could exit the river without leaving any telltale footprints.

Where
is
it? Where is it? Where—

Ah,
there
it
is!

“Head for the rocks!” he managed even though his mouth was full of water. Good thing he was an ex–Navy SEAL and felt as at home in the drink as he did on dry land, or else the repeated pull of his pack against his shoulders would’ve had him settling to the bottom of the river to serve as food for the fishes. As it was, he had to kick with everything he had in order to keep his head above the water.

“The current’s too strong!” Vanessa sputtered, splashing beside him as she fought against the raging river.

No. They couldn’t miss this opportunity. Their only hope of survival at this point was escape and evasion. And the first step to accomplishing those tasks was to make sure they got out of this damned river undetected.

The muscles in his legs burned like wildfire, his shoulders threatened to pop right out of their sockets as he battled the heavy current. When he pulled even with Vanessa, he latched on to the collar of her shirt, dragging her with him as he slowly, methodically made his way toward the edge of the river and the quickly approaching rocks. She helped him as best she could, but she was just too light to fight the river on her own.

Still, they only had one shot at this. And the time was…
now!

Raking in a deep breath, he allowed himself to sink to the bottom a couple of feet down, grabbing Vanessa around the hips. The instant his jungle boots touched silt, he pushed up with every last ounce of strength he had, catapulting her toward the rocks in the process and managing at the last minute, just barely, to reach out and snatch hold of the large branch that’d fallen across the river.

Instantly, the current caught his legs, trying to yank him downstream, but he gritted his teeth and held on for everything he was worth until he was able to hook his free arm around the branch. Straining, feeling the vein in his forehead pulse in time to his heartbeat, he was finally able to pull one leg away from the grip of the river and hook it over the branch. Wrestling his second leg free required much less effort and suddenly, he was hanging upside down, the river foaming and snarling and rushing beneath his back.

A relieved breath punched from his lungs when, after hastily wiping the water from his eyes, he saw Vanessa crawling onto the rocks. Her head was hanging between her shoulders like a drunk in the street, and she appeared to be coughing up a jungle’s worth of river water, but the important thing was she was safe. They’d made it!

Well, hallelujah and pass the ammunition!

He’d have taken a moment to pat himself on the back—when he’d brainstormed this particular escape strategy, he hadn’t banked on having a woman along for the ride—but he was too busy inch-worming his way along the branch to the water’s edge. Carefully, so as not to leave any trace of their passing, he dropped down onto a wide, flat stone.

“Y’okay,
ma
petite
?” he panted, crouching beside the still-coughing woman.

She glanced up at him, her black hair—no longer contained in a ponytail thanks to the river—plastered wetly to her neck and face, her full lips trembling ever so slightly. But there was fire in her eyes and, once again, he had to give credit where credit was due. Vanessa Cordero was turning out to be one tough cookie. Then, she proved him correct when she said, “Yeah, I—”
cough, cough,
“I’m okay,” right before she shakily pushed to her feet.

“You can take a minute,
chere
. Catch your breath.”

“No,” she blinked the water from her eyes. “I’m ready.”

“You sure?” He bent to peer into her face and, in the glow of the moonlight, he was struck once again by how goddamned beautiful she was. And just like that, his libido—the stupid shit—kicked itself into high gear. Because, you know, it wasn’t like he’d just nearly drowned or anything. It wasn’t like he’d just missed getting his head blown off.
Twice.

Jesus. No wonder the females of the species tsk-tsked and shook their heads when the conversation turned to men. As a group, they hadn’t evolved much past the caveman stage.

“I’m fine,” she insisted. And to prove it, she began climbing up the rocky embankment, which, of course, gave him another eye-goggling view of her perfect ass and…
caveman, indeed
. He was hard pressed not to grab the nearest stick, thump her over the head with it, and drag her back to his cavern so he could have his way with her.

And as ridiculous as that last thought was, it still had his dick—otherwise known as the brainless wonder—twitching with interest.

“Goddamn, sonofabitch
,
” he hissed beneath his breath, disgusted with himself, disgusted with the situation, but, most of all, disgusted by his inability to control his prurient thoughts whenever she was around. Never in his whole life had he reacted to a woman the way he reacted to Vanessa. Maybe it was chemistry, or pheromones, or…hell, maybe it was just the fact that
she
seemed to have a thing for
him.
Which, let’s be honest here, was mind-boggling in and of itself. Because she belonged in the centerfold of a men’s magazine and he…well, let’s just say he wasn’t anything to write home about.

“Did you say something?” she turned to look at him, dragging his thoughts back to the situation at hand.

“Nah. Nothin’,” he grumbled even as he started up after her. Of course, he wouldn’t have to worry about the little thing she had for him for much longer, because as soon as she found out what he had in store for them, any warm fuzzy feelings she might think to send his way were guaran-damn-teed to dry up quicker than spit on an Atlanta sidewalk in the middle of July.

Cresting the ridge, he grabbed her hand—
oui, that feels about right
—and pulled her toward a huge tree that was laying on its side. Pushing the ferns away from the hollow base, he motioned toward the small, dark space with his chin. “After you.”

And just as he suspected, she began vigorously shaking her head, murmuring, “No. Oh… Oh, no,” while backing away with the stubbornness of an old mule that knows it’s headed straight for the glue factory.

No way. No how. Under no circumstances was she crawling into that tree.

“Now,
chere
,” Rock coaxed, keeping hold of her hand so she couldn’t run screaming in the opposite direction, “don’t take off with your pistol half-cocked. I’ve got tarps coverin’ the entire inside of the thing, top and bottom, and, as it happens, I just did my weekly rounds yesterday. Which means that less than thirty-six hours ago I sprayed the sucker with insect repellent. Ain’t nothin’ living in there that’s worse than the guys huntin’ us out here.”

He might be right about that. But the thing looked like a black hole, a giant mouth open and ready to devour her. And with the sound of the water running nearby it reminded her of—

Her vision began to narrow, her head floating away from her shoulders. And then, suddenly, he was there, beside her, his masculine heat and solidity anchoring her in the moment as he wrapped a heavy arm around her shoulders.

“This is the only way,” he whispered in her ear, gently frog-marching her toward the hollowed-out tree.

“But, but—” Her mind raced with a thousand thoughts. The first and foremost being that if she crawled into that abyss she was going to die just like—“They’ll still be able to see us using infrared technology, won’t they?” She grasped onto the idea like a drowning person grasps a life raft.

Oh, friggin’ hell, a drowning person…Why’d she have to go and think of
that
?

“I.T. doesn’t work in the jungle when our body heat matches the outdoor temperatures.”

Well, duh.
She’d known that. Hadn’t she? It was hard to remember with her brain floating up somewhere near the canopy. Every step closer to that yawning cavity had her heart threatening to come crashing through her sternum like the alien creatures in those Sigourney Weaver movies. And wouldn’t
that
be one more fun thing for Rock to have to deal with?

“We’re outgunned, out-equipped, and out of options,” he continued, basically carrying her the last foot until they were standing right in front of the downed tree. She thought she could feel the darkness of that hole reaching out to pull her in.

Oh, geez. Oh, geez. Oh, g—

“They’ll see our tracks into the river and know which direction we headed,” he continued in a calm voice that only managed to make her realize how frickin’ close she was coming to a major breakdown. “Now, it’s gonna take them some time, probably an hour at least, to come down this far since they’ll carefully search each side of the riverbank lookin’ for where we got out. And when they can’t find hide nor hair of us, they’ll start scouring the jungle in earnest. And I can tell you this: with NVGs they have all the advantages. We need to hide out here until daybreak in order to even the odds. By the time mornin’ rolls around, they’ll be scratching their heads, spread thin, and wondering if maybe we somehow managed to make it to one of the surrounding communities. And that’s when we’ll make our break for it.”

Uh-huh. That all sounded very logical. Except for the teensy, tiny little fact that it meant she’d have to spend the rest of the night crammed inside that tree. In the dark. With the sound of the river running nearby…

“Now I know you’re scared.” Placing a hand on the top of her head, he half-helped, half-forced her to duck into the crevice.
Oh, geez. Oh, geez.
“But I’m gonna be right here with you the whole time. Nothin’s gonna happen to you. I promise.”

The darkness inside the hollowed-out log was complete. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, much less the tarp she felt beneath her knees when Rock tugged her into a kneeling position. They began crawling up the length of the tree and the sides closed in on her, threatening to suffocate her. She should’ve been comforted by the slightly chemical smell inside the log since it told her she wasn’t likely to be overrun by a bunch of critters but, somehow, that just made the claustrophobia worse. “Don’t you…don’t you have a flashlight in that pack?” Something,
anything
to cut through the blackness. “Or, I know, you could…you could use my phone as a light.”

“
Non
.” She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was shaking his head. “It just might be enough to shine through the foliage at the base, spotlighting our position. And even though I think we’re safe for the time being, I don’t want to take any chances. No use temptin’ fate if we don’t have to.”

So, okay. No light. She could do this. She could do this. She could—

Oh, my God! I don’t think I can do this…

“
Bon, chere
, you’re doin’ fine,” he crooned softly, and the smooth sound of his deep voice took the tiniest edge off her nerves. We’re talking microscopic. “Now just lie on down there,” he helped her onto her side in the tight space, “and I’ll be right back.”

“
What?
” she squawked, scrabbling into a sitting position and banging her head in the process.

The overhead tarp crackled on contact, but she couldn’t worry about her sound signature right now. Not when the only person keeping her sane was threatening to leave her all alone.
In
the
dark!

“What do you mean?” She reached into the blackness, relieved when her fingers landed on Rock’s warm forearm. She followed the muscular expanse up and over his bulging bicep, past his big shoulder, until she could wrap her hand around the back of his neck and pull him forward. Pressing her forehead to his, she panted, “You can’t…you can’t leave me.”

His rough hands reached up to cradle either side of her face, his breath feathered along her lips and, had she not been so terrified, she’d probably have melted into a slurry of hormonal sludge on the spot. As it was, it was taking everything she possessed not to pass out flat. “I have to go conceal our tracks from the rocks to here,” he told her, gently running the pads of his thumbs along her cheeks. “I’ll be right back. I promise you.” And with that, he slipped from her grip, and any terror that’d abated while she’d been in his arms returned ten-fold.

“Rock, I—”

“What’s your favorite song?” he asked, and the sudden change in topic combined with the darkness and her nearly paralyzing fear to make her dizzy. Er,
dizzier
. Because she already felt like she was sitting in the middle of a merry-go-round while some sadistic mofo pushed the ride faster and faster and
faster
…

Her stomach dropped down to hang somewhere in the vicinity of her knees.

“I don’t—” She shook her head, wondering if there were fireflies inside the tree trunk or if those flashing lights were simply tricks her mind was playing on her. She
was
holding her breath, after all, and the ol’ gray matter had to be getting frighteningly low on oxygen.

“When you’re alone in the shower, what do you sing?” he pressed.

“Uh,” she wracked her under-oxygenated brain and could come up with only one thing. “I guess…” She raked in a deep breath and, yep, no fireflies. But the world was still spiraling out of control. “I guess I always sing ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine.’”

She was surprised by the sound of his deep chuckle. Really? He was laughing and talking inanely about what songs she sang in the shower? At a time like this? Was he insane?

“Guns N’ Roses, eh? Somebody’s been spending too much time around Ozzie.”

And, oh crap. Just the thought of the Black Knights’ resident techno-geek—and his penchant for ’80s hair bands—made her miss home so much that tears burned behind her eyes. What she wouldn’t give to hear Boss and Becky arguing right now, or see Steady Soto thumping out an unconscious rhythm with his pencil as he sat hunched over a medical journal at the conference table, or taste the foulness that passed for coffee back at the chop shop. Instead, she was here, inside this decaying tree. In the capital D-A-R-K.

Her heartbeat, which had begun to slow just a tad with thoughts of home, kicked itself into overdrive once again. Then the sound of Rock’s soft voice drifted from the blackness. “
She’s got a smile that seems to me
…”

She’d heard him sing before, knew he had the voice of an angel. In fact, anytime he’d taken out his guitar to strum and sing around the fire pit in the courtyard back at BKI headquarters, she’d found herself mesmerized. But here? In the confines of this hollowed-out log? Man, that sweet baritone sounded like a benediction. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sound of his voice with every fiber of her being.

And, surprisingly, it helped. Her heartbeat slowed, her lungs filled with oxygen, and the world around ceased doing its best impression of a carousel.

“Come on,
ma
petite
,” he coaxed. “Sing with me.”

She opened her mouth, not surprised by the wobbliness of her voice when she joined him in the second verse. And by the time they came to the chorus, she was feeling much better. Much…
stronger
.

“That’s good,” he said. “Now you just keep on singin’. And by the time you get to the last line, I’ll be back.”

He slipped away and her voice broke, but then she heard him murmur in the dark. “Just keep on singin’,
chere
.”

Pulling her knees to her chest, squeezing herself into a ball, she kept on singing.

Just singing and singing and singing. Concentrating on the lyrics. Keeping the beat inside her head. Listening to the rustle of foliage as he worked outside to cover their tracks. And just as the last
sweet
child
o’ mine
slipped past her lips, she felt him beside her. Still, she jumped when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to give her a reassuring squeeze. “Shhh,” he whispered soothingly before quickly moving away again.

A
clacking
sound told her he was checking his weapons, probably emptying them and the clips of water. A soft
clinking
indicated he’d found some sort of rag and was hurriedly wiping the pistols down.

Which was rule number one for any operator: take care of your weapons first, the hysterical woman about to have a conniption fit second.

She tried; she really tried to keep it together. But the darkness was still there and it was suffocating her, and just as she was about to lose it, his pack dropped to the tarp with a soft
thud
. A second later he was coaxing her to lie back and stretch out beside him. Wrapping his arm around her, he pressed her cheek against his chest, and his shirt, even though it was wet, was warm. It smelled comfortingly of healthy man, laundry detergent, and clean jungle water.

“How did you know to do that?” she whispered, her voice amplified by the close walls of the hollow tree.

“Do what?”

“Get me to sing. How did you know that would help me?”

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, “It’s…it’s all part of my education and training. See, I studied psychology in college and after that I was…
disciplined
, I guess is a good way to say it, to watch people, to look for clues as to what makes them tick. So, I noticed how sound affects you, how you wince when Becky fires up her grinder, or how you jump and beat back a shiver whenever Boss bellows in that deep voice of his. Tone, pitch, resonance…You pick up on all those subtle variations. Of course, even without the training, I’d have known you had quite an ear on you. I mean, how could you be so phenomenal at learnin’ new languages if you didn’t? But it’s more than that. You actually
feel
sounds. Like other people feel pleasure or pain, you have a visceral, physical reaction to noises.”

She stilled, her breath hitching, because…that was the first time anyone had ever described it to her that way. And it was so spot-on she wondered how she’d never thought of it before.

“Which is why music, why harmony soothes you,” he went on. “You probably don’t even realize the way your shoulders relax whenever someone turns on the radio, particularly if it’s a song you like. Your whole demeanor changes, becomes calmer.”

Amazing. He was absolutely amazing.

“Who…who taught you to do that?” she asked. “Who taught you how to see those things?”

“Truth of the matter is, I don’t know.”

“What?” she pushed up from his chest in order to look at him, which was completely silly since she couldn’t see a damned thing.

And suddenly the darkness was back, reaching inside her, squeezing her heart and lungs in a black fist.

Oh, geez. Oh, geez. Please, Lord, not again.

The fear made her weak and useless, and she absolutely
hated
that. But, try as she might, there was nothing she could do about it.

Rock must have sensed the change in her, because he pressed her head back to his chest and whispered, “Shhh. It’s okay. We’re all right.”

Uh-huh. Sure.
He
might be all right. But she was definitely
not
.

The chattering of her teeth must’ve clued him in to this fact, because the next words out of his mouth were, “You wanna tell me about it?”

“About what?” She fisted her hands together, trying to keep the memories as bay.

“About what happened to make you so afraid of the dark,” he murmured, his voice so quiet it was only audible because her ear was a few inches from his mouth. “You want to tell me about that?”

No. She most certainly did not. She didn’t talk about the accident. Ever. With anyone. Which was why she was so surprised when the words, “I was with my parents when they died in a car wreck five years ago,” tumbled out of her mouth in one long, shaky breath.

Whoa. Had she really just said that? Out loud?

She waited for him to respond, to say the words she’d heard so many times, from so many people, especially in the days after the accident…
I’m so sorry, Vanessa. How awful for you…
Sorry? Awful? That didn’t come close to describing it. And because those words were all so ineffectual, because in the end they were meaningless since nothing could change what had happened, they had become a knife, slicing into her brain and slashing her composure to pieces any time someone offered them up.