Hush (20 page)

One hand on his chest, the other fumbling for his belt buckle, she realized his pants wouldn't come off over his boots.

In spite of the rain, she was sweating as she straightened and began carefully working the fabric away from his injury. He bent over to drop a kiss on top of her head. The flashlight fell out of her hair and she sighed. “A little cooperation would be nice. Can you just stand still for a sec while I get the flashlight?”

“Lie down. Better.”

“In a minute, okay? Let's get these clothes off first.”

He unsnapped the top button of her pants, his touch unerring. Acadia choked back a laugh. “Okay, then.” As long as it got him into the tent, she'd try just about anything.

Hard, driving rain was as good as a shower. Almost. And maybe once she got Zak situated, she'd take off the rest of her clothes and stand out there in front of God and those red eyes and use some soap.

Or maybe she wouldn't.

He slapped his hand not so gently against her cheek, his fingers clumsy. “Your skin is so soft. Smells like …”

She had to tilt him to get his other arm free, and hated knowing how badly she was hurting him as she did so. “Sheer, unadulterated fear?” she offered, tossing his shirt in the general direction of the tent, which she could barely see.

She went for his belt, tugging the slippery leather from the buckle, pulling it free from the prong. As she pulled the zipper down, he suddenly pressed her hand against an impressive erection. “Yes,” he whispered, listing toward her. His skin was like a furnace under her fingers, even through his briefs. His penis was rock hard and in no way affected by a bullet wound to the shoulder or by standing in a tropical downpour in the dark.

With a smile and a shake of her head, she put her hand on his uninjured shoulder and gave him a little shove back toward the support of the tree.

“Not going t—”

He cut off her protest beneath his lips. As kisses went, this one didn't have much finesse, but what he lacked in technique he made up for with enthusiasm. After a few seconds of frying Acadia's mental circuits, he fell back against the tree trunk. “Need … lie down.”

She sighed. “Got it. Stay right there and wait for me, okay? Zak? Don't move. I'll be right back.”

She crouched down to work on the wet knots in his boot laces. Like her, he'd dressed hurriedly and had gone commando. Eye-level with his erect penis, she was tempted to—No. With a muffled laugh, Acadia picked up the penlight, stuck it back in her hair, and finished untying his shoes.

She stood up and steadied him with one hand braced on his chest. “Step out of this boot …” She nudged his leg with her knee. “There you go. Now, the other one … Good job.” Carefully avoiding the penis that stood hopefully at attention, she managed to pull Zak away from the tree and toward the tent, then maneuvered his tall body into the small opening. Made him scoot all the way in under his own erratic steam. It took a while.

Before climbing in herself, she took off her own pants, bringing the garment inside and leaving the rest of their soaked clothing outside. They couldn't get any wetter. The tent was barely big enough for him, but she managed to squeeze in beside him.

His eyes were closed, his breaths deep. Asleep, she hoped, not unconscious. Using the narrow beam of the flashlight, she scanned it across his entire body while she looked for other injuries. Plenty of raised scars, but nothing more recent than the bruise and gash on his temple and a freaking gunshot wound.

Acadia removed the gauze from his shoulder and saw that the hole was still bleeding sluggishly. The skin around it was red and hot to the touch. Not good. Not
good at all. Worry ate at her, but she didn't have time to indulge it. Zak was totally dependent on her. She didn't have time even to think about falling apart.

She was organized. Her friends always said so. Accordingly, she made a mental note to fall into hysterics in two weeks.

Feeling better knowing that she had a breakdown scheduled, she methodically emptied all the pockets in her pants and vest beside her hip, sorting through her supplies. She methodically and carefully cleaned and redressed Zak's wound, then covered him with the foil blanket. He'd need water when he woke up. He'd appreciate clean clothes, food …

As exhausted as she was, she crawled backward outside and set to washing their clothes with a little sliver of hotel soap, then left them spread over branches to rinse. They'd dry in no time once this damned rain stopped. Or be carried off by some wild animal, leaving them to finish their trek back to civilization naked.

If that was the case, she'd deal with it tomorrow. Right now she could handle only one thing at a time.

Feeling vulnerable and terrifyingly exposed standing naked in the dark, Acadia quickly washed herself and let the rain do the rest. She was exhausted by the time she crept back inside and pulled the zipper down, almost to the ground. Reaching out, she picked up the leafy branch she'd left there, propping it up against the front of the tent before she finished zipping the flap closed. It wasn't the best camouflage job in the world, but it was better than nothing. She hoped.

Zak slept on his side, leaving a narrow space for her to slide in and stretch out beside him. He slid his arm under her head as she settled, gathering her against his chest. His heart beat steadily under her ear.

ZAK KNEW THEY SHOULD
move into the shade. The tropical sun was baking his body, and it was too bright for him to open his eyes. But damn, it felt good to relax here on the beach with nothing better to do than listen to the susurrus of the nearby waves and anticipate what was coming next. It'd been a while since they'd had nothing to do but each other.

He remembered all the good things with a wash of forgotten tenderness. God, he wanted those feelings back.

She cupped his face in her small capable hands. Odd. Jen's large, bony hands had been her Achilles' heel, yet now they felt so small and delicate against his skin. He liked it. Remembered that he'd once loved her more than he'd thought possible.

The scent of jasmine mingled with woman's musk made him hard as a rock. Zak was glad she'd gotten over the Obsession kick. Jasmine smelled much, much … Weak with longing, Zak slid over her, resting his hips on hers because he was out of breath with lust and the enervating heat wrapped around his body like a damp wool blanket.

Shade …

“Make love to me, sweetheart.” She lifted smoky gray eyes to his, smiled, slid her hand down between them to
close over his erect penis. Zak uttered a guttural moan, bent his head to her breast, and flicked his tongue across one distended tip.

“Zak,
please
… You're going to hurt yoursel—”

Arms straining as he braced his body over hers, he positioned himself over her damp heat and murmured, “Cady.” And sank home.

BY MORNING ZAK WAS
feverish, he wouldn't or couldn't swallow the water Acadia tried to drizzle between his parched lips, and she couldn't cool him down, no matter what she tried. And she tried everything.

Too bad she hadn't known this was going to happen; she would have given Gideon less of her aspirin supply back at the guerrilla camp. Zak's feeble calisthenics during the night probably had done him more harm. He'd been out of his mind, and quite determined to have wild jungle sex. Fortunately, he'd been too weak. She'd easily been able to restrain him. Besides, the tent was too small for two people to move about without doing serious bodily harm to each other.

But boy-howdy, he'd been determined.

The wound was red and angry-looking. It was infected, and she was running out of the only antiseptic she had. The hand sanitizer. She sponged his body from his head to his feet, then fanned him with the little battery-operated fan until the batteries died. There was no cross-breeze through the mesh windows. The still air hung thick and pregnant with more rain. Zak sweated profusely. He rambled. About his brother. About Jennifer.
About his car, and about his dog, which as far as she could piece together he'd named Mouse.

Their clothing had steamed dry, and she brought it inside the tent, folding it neatly into little squares, which she used to pillow Zak's head.

She ate half a protein bar and made a small cup of bouillon with collected rainwater and one of the small packs of powder she'd brought along for her friend Amber, who was always hungry. She made a mental note to thank Amber, because she was able to dribble the drink into Zak's mouth periodically. Acadia tended to him as best as she could, then went foraging.

She didn't know what the hell she was doing, so she stayed close by as she looked for fruit to supplement what she had with her. Monkeys chattered in the trees; birds sang as they also foraged for food around her. Insects buzzed and created a low hum that filled the still air.

At least there was no sign of the guerrillas, although Acadia never forgot that she and Zak were being hunted. She said a prayer of safety for Zak's brother, and one for her and Zak while she was at it. She hoped St. Christopher was listening. Maybe he only worked for Catholics?

Because of the rain, water was plentiful. Every hour on the hour she irrigated Zak's wound, then redressed it, and every hour it looked worse. She had to get him help, but she had no damned idea how to do that. She couldn't carry him, and even if she could, she had no idea in which direction to go.

The face of his watch was cracked, and water had
seeped inside. According to him they'd been heading toward the river.

She didn't even know how close they were to it or, if she found it, how quickly she'd find a town or village. She'd settle for a tiny one-building settlement with any sort of medical treatment. Not for the first time in her life, Acadia felt helpless, hopeless, and so frightened that she had no idea what to do next. At least with her father there'd been the Internet for reference, and people around to help. Here there was no one but her.

She'd wait one more night, but if he wasn't better in the morning, she'd have no choice but to go find help. Brushing his hair back from his forehead, she whispered, “Life's not done with you yet, Zak. Come back to me.”

“YOU LOOK LIKE HELL.”
Zak coughed, shocked to hear the weak timbre of his voice. Acadia sat with her legs curled to the side to squeeze into the small space beside him. She wore a small, pale-colored T-shirt and, as far as he could tell, nothing else. She held his hand clasped between her breasts, her mouth touching his knuckles as if she was in prayer.

He realized they were in a small tent, the dim interior like a sauna set on high. Maybe because the lightweight nylon encasing them was a muddy color, or maybe because her pale skin looked bloodless with exhaustion, she looked jaundiced. Strands of her hair had escaped the lopsided coil on top of her head and hung like limp flags of surrender around her glistening face and neck.

At the sound of his voice, she opened her dazed eyes. It took a moment for her gaze to meet his.

Then her face crumpled and she burst into tears.

“Jesus,” he rasped. “What is it?”

“You're awake!”

“Yeah. Apparently. How long was I asleep?” He stretched slowly, noting the weakness in his muscles and, as he shifted, the fire in his shoulder.

Gripping his hand in both of hers, she let the tears dry on her flushed face. “You've been unconscious for
days
.” It was more an accusation than anything.

“No way … days? Last I remember, we were headed for the river.” She was stroking his hand as one would a frightened animal. It was cute. Hell, she was … “Wanted to beat the rain.” God, it was fucking hot in here. Maybe if he went outside … Rain pounded the canvas overhead. Rain would be cool … Yeah. Outside.

“You passed out. Stop moving around and lie still. The bullet's still in your shoulder.”

“Feel it.” God, it was hot. Claustrophobic. Noisy … Zak blinked her into focus. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” she said on a hiccup.

He liked the way she was holding his hand to her face, liked the feel of her soft, damp mouth against his knuckles. “Where's Gideon?”

“Probably waiting impatiently for you at the hotel in Caracas.” She sounded impatient, her face flushed. “You were out for two days, Zak.”

“Shit. Any sign of the bad guys?”

“Not since you were shot.”

Small favors. “What happened to my clothes?” The frightened look on her face haunted him in ways he couldn't describe, so he teased lightly, “Did you rip them off and have your wicked way with me while I was lights out?”

Her smile glimmered, but only faintly. “You bet. No foreplay, of course, but these were extenuating circumstances.” She sobered again. “There was a lot of blood …” She swallowed hard. “I washed them while you were sleeping. They're dry now, and your head is resting on the pants. If you want, I can tuck your shirt under there, too.”

Zak tightened his fingers around hers as she moved. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

She shrugged. “I'm lousy with directions. I can't find my way out of a paper bag. I need you to find our way back to civilization.”

He smiled with effort, not letting go of her hand. “Where'd you find the tent?”

“It's our best-selling one-person. Weighs just under three pounds, so it's easy to carry. Waterproof, easy to pitch …” She placed her free hand on his forehead and frowned. “You're still running a temperature. I've cleaned your shoulder as best I could, but you have to see a doctor. You lost a lot of blood, and the wound is infected. Do you think you can walk? I've made a walking stick for you out of a branch I found.”

“What time is it?”

She glanced at his watch, which he noticed with exhausted amusement was strapped on her slender wrist.
“Six fifteen. Or it was when it stopped. The glass is broken. I think it's closer to noon.”