Line of Fire (9 page)

“Two Americans.”

“What?” Her heart battered against her ribs like a panicked bird trying to escape a cage.

“There’s probably a reward out already for anyone who brings us in or sights us.”

She gulped. There was a bounty on their heads? “What are we going to do now?” she whispered desperately.

“First, talk low under your breath like I’m doing. The sound of it carries less than whispering. Second, we’re going to take down our shelter and get moving.”

“Now?” she asked in surprise. “It’s pitch black out. And those poachers are still out there!”

“Now,” he answered firmly. “They won’t expect us to move until morning, and it’ll put some distance between us and them that they won’t be counting on.”

She gulped and crawled gamely out of the shelter.

“Put these on.” He handed her the dirty fatigue pants.

She scowled at the Almighty’s rotten sense of humor. Did those gnarly pants
have
to be the test of her resolve to cooperate with Tex?

With a sigh, she shimmied out of her skirt and hose and slipped on the pants. She then took one step away from Tex and promptly tripped on a vine. Even though his back was to her, he whirled and grabbed her before she hit the ground. Lord, he was fast.

“Give me your shoes,” he ordered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. Pass them over.”

Bemused, she sat down on a log and passed her shoes to Tex. She winced as he used the knife to saw off most of each heel. She was all in favor of anything that helped her move more easily, but she’d really liked those shoes. Not to mention they’d cost a small fortune. She sighed and slipped them back on. They felt a hundred percent more stable beneath her.

“There. Now you can walk a whole lot faster and safer,” he said quietly.

“How am I supposed to move at all when I can’t see a thing?” she murmured in consternation.

“I’ll go first.” He moved in front of her. “Put your hand on my back if you need to. Slide your feet forward. Don’t pick them up. Feel your way with the soles of your feet.”

She glided forward awkwardly.

“Good,” he murmured. “There’ll be a little more light once we get out of this thicket.”

He was right. Once they pushed out of the thick stand of plants, she was able to make out vague shadows along the ground. It was still very dark and made for slow going, but she managed to pick her way over and around obstacles and stay close to Tex.

Before long the uncomfortable chill in the air felt good. How long she stumbled along, balancing herself against Tex’s powerful back, she had no idea. But eventually she became aware of a faint gray tinge to the darkness around them. Panic tickled her stomach. Daylight meant the kidnappers could see better.

“Tex, it’s getting light. Shouldn’t we take cover or something?”

“I wish,” he murmured back. “But we’ve got to keep moving. It’s our only chance. If we sit still, they’ll throw a ring of hunters around us and close the net until they find us.”

Abruptly the fatigue of a short’s night sleep dissipated. Lovely. Now they were prey to a veritable army of hunters. More edgy than ever, she jumped at every noise.

Tex stopped suddenly and turned around. “Kimberly,” he said very calmly, “I need you to do something for me.”

“What is it?” she asked nervously.

“I need you to take a couple deep breaths and relax. You’re kicking in your adrenaline, and you need to save it for when we really need it.”

She frowned. “How do you know that?”

“Your hand is shaking on my back and you’re breathing at about twice your normal rate.”

“Oh.” She had to give him credit for being observant, at least. She took a couple deep breaths. And didn’t feel any calmer.

Tex reached up and pushed a stray lock of hair back from her face. The gentle gesture startled her. It was incongruous coming from such a hard man.

He spoke quietly. “Whoever’s hunting us probably figures we’ll panic and run if we hear them. They aren’t going to make much effort to be quiet. In fact, they’ll probably make noise intentionally to scare us into bolting.”

She frowned. She wished she knew more about how this life-and-death game was played. She looked at him questioningly.

He elaborated. “We’ll hear the bad guys coming long before they see us. You don’t need to worry about them jumping out from behind a tree and shouting ‘Boo!’”

Ah. Well now, that
was
reassuring. Her breathing settled down a bit and her heart eased out of her throat.

“Just so you know the plan. If we do encounter the rebels, we’re going to hide, wherever we are, and wait them out. Okay?”

She nodded.

“If they find us, I’ll take them all out with the rifles. After that, we’ll run like hell. But we’ll worry about that when the time comes.”

The reminder about the pair of deadly rifles slung over his shoulders made her feel much less like a cornered rabbit. Her pulse started to calm down. What exactly did he mean by “taking their pursuers out,” though?

Her mind skated away from the obvious answer to that one.

* * *

Tex walked along ahead of Kimberly, more worried by the minute. Each time her hand settled lightly on his back, lust shot through him like an armor-piercing round. Each time it happened, it got harder and harder to fight off an urge to turn around and kiss her senseless. Fear of that urge gave him a nearly uncontrollable need to cut and run from her and the sexual shocks tearing through his gut.

That had been a close call back at the shelter. Too close. Not the soldier putting a knife to her throat, although that had been dicey, too. But the way she’d crawled all over him, teasing his body to a fever pitch of desire…he’d very nearly rolled over and ravaged her. He’d walked a razor’s edge of self-control and had almost lost it.

What in the hell was he going to do with her?

He pondered the question grimly as they marched onward through the night.

He’d loved two women in his lifetime. And they’d both cut and run when the going got tough.

There was his mother of course. He vaguely remembered her face. She’d been blond and beautiful, too. And she couldn’t deal with living way out in the middle of nowhere on a lonely cattle ranch. She’d lasted until he was seven years old and his sister, Susan, was five. And then she’d bailed on her husband and two young children. He was still embarrassed to think about how old he was before he stopped crying himself to sleep each night, his face buried in a pillow so no one would know.

And then there was Emily. His childhood sweetheart. He’d dated her from the moment his dad said he was old enough to have a girlfriend. They were together all the way through high school and college. He always assumed they’d end up married someday. She’d been sweet and gentle, a nice girl. Loyal. Or so he’d thought.

And then he’d come home from his first mission for Charlie Squad, full of pride and still on a high from pulling off a near miraculous mission to capture a dangerous drug lord. He’d never forget the look on Emily’s face as he described the details of sneaking close to the guy’s compound, shooting all the guards dead, rushing in and arresting the drug lord, and then airlifting him out by helicopter while under fire.

She’d recoiled from him in horror, distaste written all over her face. “You actually enjoyed all that violence and killing?” she’d asked with utter loathing.

She didn’t get it. No matter how hard he tried to convince her that he was one of the good guys and was making the world a better place, after that day she only saw a violent, brutal thug when she looked at him. She’d been gone—packed up and moved out—before he got home from his second mission.

After that, he went strictly for groupie chicks who got a thrill out of sleeping with dark, dangerous guys like him. They hung out at all the bars near military bases, waiting to pick up soldiers just in from the field or just about to go out.

They wanted rough sex, a wild ride, and no commitment whatsoever. They didn’t give a damn about him or who he was. They just wanted the fantasy of the he-man lover.

It didn’t take him long to get sick and tired of them, either. He mostly avoided women now. They either didn’t have staying power for when times got tough or were only out for themselves.

Kimberly’s hand landed harder than usual against his back. He slowed down until she regained her balance and her hand retreated. Desire shuddered through him.

Kimberly Stanton was the worst of both female worlds. She was appalled by what he did
and
she wanted no part of sticking around. Worse, she was turned on by him. She’d use him and lose him without a second thought. Clearly she was a woman he’d be well advised to stay far, far away from.

A new sound disturbed the usual noises of the jungle. He spun and yanked her down beneath him, rolling with her until they lay under a thick stand of brush.

Her breasts pressed against his chest, her long legs tangled with his. Her belly contracted hard against his and the blatantly sexual position they lay in made his breath come in short bursts.

He listened intently.

There it was again. A rustling. Sudden silence from the birds. Three, maybe four, people moving off to their left on a parallel course. They lay there for many minutes, long after the noise had faded away and the birds had resumed their regular cacophony of sound.

He looked down into Kimberly’s terrified eyes. “You okay?” he murmured.

“I’m slightly crushed, but otherwise fine, thank you.”

He rolled off of her immediately. “Sorry. It’s part of my training to put myself between hostile shooters and whoever I’m protecting. I do it without thinking.”

She gazed at him intently. “You jumped on top of me to shield me?”

Inexplicably he was embarrassed. “Well, yeah,” he answered gruffly.

“That’s so sweet.”

“Honey, I’m a lot of things,” he growled, “but sweet sure as shootin’ ain’t one of them.”

She laughed lightly and sat up. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

He stood up cautiously and had a look around before reaching down to help her to her feet.

“What’s this?” she murmured at his extended hand. “Are you actually displaying civilized manners to me?”

His attention jerked from the jungle around them to her. “Contrary to what you seem to think, I am not a Neanderthal,” he bit out.

“Oh, so it’s just kissing me that brings out that side of you?”

He scowled at her smiling face and spun way. What could he say to that? Kissing her did bring out the caveman in him.

What did he care anyway about what she thought of his manners or lack of them? His job was to get her the hell out of this jungle, send her back to her hoity-toity life, and get on with his.

He picked up the pace, angling their course away from the last position of the people they’d just encountered. They walked until late in the afternoon, stopping only to drink water when they came across little pools of it, and to catch their breath. He didn’t even take time to smear her in the mud-and-grass camo he’d promised her. Visibility wasn’t their problem. Time was.

Tex stopped abruptly when he noticed a tall cluster of dried mud towers off to their right. Bingo. He veered toward the man-high, cone-shaped structures.

“What in the world is that?” Kimberly asked as they approached it.

“Supper,” he replied jovially.

“We’re eating mud for supper?” she asked skeptically.

“Nope, we’re eating the termite grubs inside.”

Shock apparently rendered her speechless and she watched in rather comic dismay as he found a long, sturdy stick and began digging at the base of the tower. When he’d dug down about three feet, he found what he was looking for. Fat, white, inch-long, termite larvae. He picked up several and held them out to her.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she declared in disbelief.

“Not at all. They’re a good source of protein.” He popped one in his mouth and swallowed it. “No need to chew it. Just toss it down like a pill.”

She glared at him darkly. “You’re doing this to get even with me for crawling all over you last night, aren’t you?”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” he answered evenly.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. This is petty and it’s beneath you, Tex Monroe. I insist that you get me some decent food to eat.”

He stood up to his full height slowly. “Kimberly, this is a South American jungle. The Russian Tea Room is not just around the corner. If I had all damn day to hunt for something tasty, and I don’t, I
might
be able to come up with something higher class than this, like maybe a rat, for you to eat.”

Her delicate jaw set in stubborn lines.

He’d had just about enough of her aristocratic, holier-than-thou routine. He stepped close and growled down at her through clenched jaws, “There are people, probably a lot of them, hunting us right now. This situation is dangerous and the cards are stacked way against us. I’m out here, completely unprepared, busting my ass to save your tush, and I’d appreciate it if you could see fit to give me a little cooperation.”

Her eyes abruptly filled with tears, their emerald depths swimming with misery, fatigue, hunger and fright.

Aw, hell.

He pulled her close, wrapping her in a tight hug. She sobbed against his chest, muffling the sound for the most part. He hated the feel of her shaking in his arms, her whole frame trembling as she cried out her fear and stress. He wanted to make it all better. But there was just no easy way out of this. Frustration twisted his gut.

It was a couple minutes before she lifted her head and looked up at him. Tear tracks streaked her ivory cheeks. Somehow she managed to look beautiful even with red, puffy eyes and a runny nose. Hell, she even cried classy.

“Feel better?” he asked gruffly.

“Not really. But at least I’m not holding all that in anymore.”

“Well, that’s something,” he replied wryly. He looked down at the ground and then back up at her. “I wish I could wave a magic wand and make this all go away. But I can’t. We’ve just got to press on and do the best we can.”

She nodded on a wobbly breath.