Chapter 2
Buck jerkedawake feeling like hamburger meat. His side throbbed like hell, his shoulder stinging, and his legs like lead. His first thought was for Joker, his teammates, and then the position he was in took over most of his brain and body. He was lying on a stretcher under a porch. The storm was over, water dripping off the eaves in a soothing cadence. The woman who had bent over him when he’d collapsed was lying mostly on him, and she was asleep, snoring softly. For some reason that charmed the heck out of him.
The sun peeked over the horizon in pink, but to him, it was crashing through the trees like a spotlight in the darkness.
She was the only thing that felt good right now, her lean body wrapped around his, her breasts flattened against his chest.
It had been a while. Buck didn’t cultivate female relationships very well, and after a few disasters, he stayed mostly to himself unless opportunity knocked. It was as much his fault as his job’s. Most women couldn’t handle it, nor understand his real purpose. He didn’t bother to explain and holding onto his secrets put women off easily.
She shifted, and he noticed his sidearm in her hand. Okay, that was a new one. He happened to be the damsel in distress, and she’d been protecting him. She exhaled long and low when he disengaged the pistol, sliding it back into his holster. Her eyes opened. She lay there for a moment in sleepy limbo, and he waited for the moment she realized where she was. She stiffened. Then pushed up from him.
Gee-zus…what a fucking gorgeous woman. The sight of her actually made his knees weak. That had never happened before in his life. He was going to chalk this up to his ten-mile sprint after a helicopter crash had knocked the shit out of him. Cowboys didn’t get weak knees. They were too busy ropin’, ridin’, and wranglin’.
But right now, he wasn’t too busy to take in that body. Beneath the V of her short, champagne silk robe, Buck caught a glimpse of full breasts straining the confines of a scrap of coffee-colored lace. With that body and all its lush curves, this woman was made for silk and lace. The damp material molded her shapely breasts and tight nipples like a second skin. No bra, but then she was in her nightwear. The provocative peek at her sexy lingerie left enough to the male imagination, and he had a good imagination.
She cleared her throat, reached for a glass with a straw, and put it to his mouth. He drank thirstily. When he was finished, she wiped the bottom of his lip with her thumb. A fission of heat went through his aching body. He met her gaze, the instantaneous sparks of awareness between the two of them nearly tangible.
She cleared her throat again, running her fingers through her semi-damp hair, combing the strands away from her face, something he found too damn fascinating and tempting. Most of the rebellious strands sprang back into place, and his fingers itched to push them back again, just as an excuse to see if her hair was as silky-soft as it looked. The robe parted, revealing her legs, exposing way too much of those smooth, toned thighs and delicate ankles of hers. He noted how her feet were dirty, muddy, and bare, the nails painted in a soft pink color.
“Hi, there.” She fluttered her hands toward his chest. “Sorry about that. Being woken up in the middle of the night from gunfire sort of disturbs one’s sleep.”
“No problem, darlin’. I’ve been called a lot worse than a pillow.” She had a very light accent, and her English was flawless.
She smiled, a slow, sweet smile that affected him like a blow right to the gut.
“Joker?”
Her gaze captured his and searched deep, past those emotional barriers he’d erected, and seemingly touched a piece of his soul in the process. “The man you were carrying?”
“Yes. He’s our lieutenant.” His voice was rough. Buck was aching with worry over Joker’s fate. He couldn’t have failed to save him.
She nodded. “My sister is stabilizing him while your DEA calls in enough helicopters to medevac all of you out. You didn’t fail him,” she murmured.
Buck’s lungs squeezed tight, making normal breathing difficult. How the hell she’d managed to hit him where he was most susceptible, he didn’t know. This woman was more trouble than he’d thought. He half rose. “Your sister?”
“Dr. Sofia Morales. He’s in good hands.”
“The guys?”
She pushed him back down, immediately contrite, her face softening. “Are all as battered, bruised, and beat up as you are? I understand you were in a terrible helicopter crash. I’m so sorry for your losses. But although you’re all dehydrated and exhausted, there are no gunshot wounds, thankfully. One of our men was wounded, but he’s going to be all right.”
“That’s good news,” he said, relaxing back into the comfort of the stretcher. “Who are you? Where am I?”
“You’re on our property, La Buena Tierra Plantación. It’s totally family-owned and operated. You might know us as the Golden Grain. We have several coffee shops in San Diego. Your gun battle ended up here, instead of a piece down the road where your DEA was waiting for you. Our guards held them off until the DEA arrived.”
The Good Earth Plantation, he translated. He did know those shops. There were at least four in San Diego, and he often frequented the one near the base. He nodded. “That’s some damn fine coffee.” She smiled again, this time with pride. It shone out of those beautiful blue eyes. “And you are?”
“Oh, right. I’m Maritza Elena Solano Navarro. I’m the owner’s daughter, vice president, and head roaster. This plantation has been in my family since 1808 when coffee was first produced for commercial consumption.” He was also quite attracted to this fascinating woman. He felt a kinship with her that went family-deep. She helped to run a family-owned business, and he was part of a working ranch, very much involved in its present and future, wholly proud of its past.
He was suddenly very tired from lack of sleep and from all that turmoil over Joker, the memory of Rock, the men he’d had to leave behind, and their deaths at the hands of Ignacio Siachoque’s men. He was widely known by his nickname, Nacho, and although it was amusing, there was nothing funny about the Siachoque Cartel. Much as he hated to admit it, Buck was feeling physically weak, as well as emotionally battered.
“That was quite a mouthful.”
“Most people call me Mari or Zazu. Take your pick.”
“Zazu?” he repeated, the name so jazzy and cute, he smiled even as fatigue pulled at him. “So, you’re the one responsible for that damn fine coffee?”
She nodded with a laugh, her eyes dancing. He found that he wanted her eyes to dance a lot. “Yes, I am.”
He reached out, grunting softly as his side protested loudly. “Sam Buckard. I go by Buck.” Her hand slipped around his and they shook, lingering longer than necessary. The movement of her shoulder caused those damp, disheveled waves to caress her cheek and jaw. Feeling gut-punched again, he had the uncontrollable urge to get closer to her.
“Sam…a strong name,” she said softly.
“I understand about family. I’m from Wyoming and my family owns a ranch that was established in 1866. It’s our legacy,” he whispered, his eyelids getting heavy.
It was a good thing he was shipping out soon. This woman pushed many buttons, some he didn’t know he even had…maybe an ocean away wasn’t enough to save him.
* * *
A cascade shiveredthrough Mari and her camisole top suddenly felt too tight across her breasts, her nipples aching at the rub of the lace against them. He was special ops. That much she’d gleaned from the DEA who had descended en masse onto their property. She wasn’t alarmed or shocked by their presence. Her family cooperated with law enforcement whenever they needed to. The peaceful Costa Rica was changing into a morass of murder and corruption from the manipulation of the Mexican and Colombian drug cartels. They sometimes had problems from nearby Nicaragua.
Now that she’d found out he was from Wyoming, everything seemed to drop into place. That deep, sexy drawl in his voice, the look of danger about him, a man who thrived on risk and adventure. His too-long, tousled black hair and the dark stubble shadowing his lean jaw only added to that tantalizing image. She could see him in a cowboy hat, astride a horse. Another shiver went down her spine. Then there were those stunning, piercing forest-green eyes of his that had the ability to tempt a woman to sin. With him. In many different ways.
Mari sighed, and as if he knew exactly where her thoughts had traveled, a slow, disarming smile tipped up the corners of his sensual mouth, bringing to life an instantaneous awareness that coiled low and deep in her belly. Her attraction to this man was undeniable, like nothing she’d ever experienced before.
“Family is everything,” she said, and she meant it. “Ive been working for La Buena Tierra my whole life, from cradle to adulthood. It has consumed every moment of my life when I’m not sleeping.” She loved every leaf, plant, bean, rock, and river on the property, loved the process of making coffee for enjoyment, loved her ideas to expand, and loved working so closely with every member of her extended family. A built-in support system when garnering advice or needing help in every aspect of their lives, Mari’s sisters and brother were her best friends.
In Costa Rica, it was all in the family. Unlike North Americans, she lived on the plantation with her sisters, their husbands and children, her brother, and his wife and children, her paternal grandparents, and her parents. Her maternal grandparents lived in San Diego as her mother was from the United States, her grandfather a prominent lawyer. Mari held dual citizenship.
Buck chuckled, then winced, ending the laughter with a small groan. He was in terrible pain. Unable to help herself, she set her hand against his arm, finding rock-solid muscle and tantalizing heat. His muscles flexed, and his breathing hitched. “I’m so sorry,” she said in a suddenly breathy voice. “Is there something I can do?”
He shook his head. “I’ll get treatment soon enough, and I have no idea what they gave me so far.” She leaned in close as his lashes fell to half-mast over his beguiling green eyes. It was easy to see he was fading and all she could feel was disappointment.
She was at a loss with that herself. The medic, Zorro, an interesting man with an interesting call name, had tended to all of them tirelessly, finally assisting her sister in the care of their lieutenant who apparently was someone of great importance to all of them. They had asked about him often.
His eyes drifted closed, and his breathing grew deeper and slower. She was about to leave and find out what was going on when his hand lifted, and he reached out and gently wound a strand of hair around his finger. Feeling ensnared by his alluring look, in more ways than one, was a very dangerous thing.
“Too bad I don’t have time to get to know you better,” he said. “I might be too fast and too intense for you.”
Something rang out like a tuning fork aligning to a similar tone. “What if I like it fast and intense?”
He blinked, drawing her attention to those long, sooty lashes and his vivid green eyes, then his grin broadened with shameless intent. “Then I’d say you sound just like my kind of cowgirl.” His voice dropped to a low, husky pitch, and a slow hum of arousal infused her veins.
Regardless of the circumstances that made this all so bittersweet, she hadn’t felt this alive in a long time, not with any man, and she had a lot of propositions. But this smooth-talking, handsome cowboy was nothing like them. He was pure, unadulterated charm.
Releasing her hair, he dragged a finger along her jaw and caressed down the side of her neck. Her skin ached at his touch, her body shivering all over.
“The next time we meet, heartbreaker,” he murmured as his gaze dropped to her mouth. “It’ll be fast and fierce, then slow and hot.” Even in his weakened and injured state, he exuded an abundance of male confidence and sex appeal that should have been illegal. His hand dropped back to his heart, giving her an edgy look before he went out like a light.
She scoffed softly. She was sure he was the heartbreaker. That was if she wasn’t as worldly as he was. Someone could have sex and keep her heart intact. She’d been on the receiving end of emotional upheaval before. Despite the danger, there was something so irresistible and charismatic about him. Yet there was something else about him beyond the physical that drew her. Damn, she wanted to find out what that was.
Other than the fact that he had bad boy written all over him…
She inhaled a hard breath…bad boy cowboy to boot. She really wasn’t in the market for any kind of relationship right now. She just didn’t have the time. The stark fact was that her job and family obligations kept her crazy busy. But if they were to meet again, and the chance of that was slim to none, Buck and his sexy smile and body to die for was the only distraction she would allow herself.
“Ma’am?”
The deep voice brought her out of her sensuous and fleeting thoughts of what it would be like to be with him.
“Yes.” She looked up to find Zorro, who looked dead on his feet. His cuts and bruises were stark on his face and arms, a gash on his leg. She could see her sister’s handiwork in all of the bandages, stitches, and butterflies he sported. “We’re getting ready to move everyone out. We can’t thank you enough for all your help, especially your sister’s amazing medical skills. Joker’s been stabilized enough to travel—” His voice broke, the terrible ordeal they had all been through finally catching up to him now that the danger was over. He set his hands on his hips and tilted his head back, looking at the sky. It was a moment before he gathered his composure. “She saved his life, and we’re on our way back to the States.” His voice sounded crushed, and his eyes blinked furiously. She rose, compassion twisting her heart. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight.
“You’re so welcome. Please take care and have a safe flight back.”
Two of her field workers walked over and picked up the stretcher, and she followed them to the chopper that was just landing on a stretch of dusty road. They set him down as more of her people brought the remaining stretchers.
She knelt in the pebbles and dirt, the pressure of it pressing into her skin, and reached out and touched his unshaven jaw, sighing at the rough, arousing texture against her fingertips. “Goodbye, Buck.” He never even stirred, and she turned away from the chopper, heading back to the hacienda to tackle her work for the day.
She took a long, hot shower to wash off blood, dirt, and mud, the spray of the water tantalizing against her aching nipples, her thoughts still on the sexy spec ops warrior. She gasped softly when she washed between her legs, yearning for something elusive, something that had more to do with life than with sex. She shrugged her shoulders at her ridiculous and slippery thoughts.
Her life was here. Would always be here. There was no her. There was only family.
She turned off the water and dried herself off, then dressed in a black T-shirt, gray overalls, and a pair of sturdy black boots. She shrugged into a blue chambray button-down shirt and grabbed her straw hat off the hook near the door.
In the now bustling kitchen, filled with hand-painted tiles and wood-beamed ceiling, the air simmered with delicious aromas. This spacious room, ladened with cherished, well-worn implements, was her mom’s domain, rich with color, rustic furniture, simple iron chandeliers, and ceramics.
With dawn breaking outside the windows in the big, warm room, Mari poured a cup of coffee from the always full pot. She leaned against the counter and smiled at her mom who was making gallo pinto, a typical breakfast of leftover rice and beans in which she added scrambled eggs, fresh tomatoes, and avocado with a side of cinnamon-sugar fried plantains. Her mouth watered as she took a sip of the aromatic and delicious home-grown coffee with notes of honey and apricot, a new blend Mari was working on. This was a mid-roast and the slow, medium heat brought out the flavors beautifully.
Her mother held up her cup, then took a sip. “This might just be one of the finest blends you’ve created, my sweet,” her mom said in her soft tone.
Mari smiled, her mother was always full of praise, but her father…that was a different story.
The oldest of Mari’s siblings, her sister Sofia walked into the kitchen in fresh clothes. They’d all been caught in their pajamas when the spec ops guys had appeared out of the jungle, running for their lives. She was a family doctor at the La Cruz practice in town, but her training had been extensive. She was married to their marketing whiz, Victor Morales, and mom to her five-year-old son and two-year-old daughter.
She sat down on one of the bar stools and said, “How about you pour me a cup of that delicious-smelling coffee?”
Mari smiled and set down her cup, which her sister instantly stole, then sipped with a smile. “Mmm, delicious.”
Mari shook her head and poured herself another cup, adding just a touch of cream.
“You are so bad,” her mom said with a gleam in her eyes. Sofia liked to confiscate things.
“More like a sneaky thief,” Mari said, nudging her sister’s shoulder as she joined her at the expansive counter.
Anna, Mari’s second oldest sister, walked in with her infant son in her arms. She was married to the processing plant’s manager, Marco Quesada. Shortly after that, her brother’s wife Fernanda walked in still in her pajamas, her hair haphazardly piled on top of her head. She yawned.
“There was a lot of commotion this morning. The girls went to school chattering about it. Thank the stars everyone was all right.” Fernanda and her brother Diego had two daughters.
All her family members had dark hair, brown skin, and wide brown eyes of the Navarro side of the family.
Fernanda got herself a cup of coffee and joined everyone at the bar. “Talk about a hot group of men,” she said.
Mari smiled in amusement at her sister-in-law as her mom slid bowls of their delicious breakfast one after the other along the polished countertop. Each of them caught the bowls in succession.
“Yeah,” Anna slid a glance over to Mari. “Especially Zazu’s guy,” she said as she took a bite of her breakfast.
Mari rolled her eyes. “He’s not my guy.” But she had to agree that he was definitely hot. “He lives in the States and is from a working Wyoming ranch.”
“That medic was pretty hot if you ask me. Those dark eyes and devastating looks, not to mention that muscled body. Very knowledgeable and cool under stress.”
“He was impressed by your skill, Sofia. Very grateful for your help.” Mari enjoyed her mouthful of tomato, avocado, and scrambled eggs.
“Their commander…Joker…wouldn’t have made it if they hadn’t ended up here. He’d lost so much blood by the time he got to me, I had to do something, or he would have died.”
“That’s so scary,” Fernanda said. “I’m so glad you could help them.”
“I’m just wondering if that handsome Wyoming cowboy can do something for our Zazu’s love life.” Sofia nudged her with a sly grin curving her lips. “He looks like the kind of bad boy who would be perfect to end your dry spell.” She turned to Anna’s son and fed him some scrambled eggs. He cooed and wrapped his chubby hand around her spoon. She smiled and rubbed her hand over his downy head.
Mari gasped and stole some avocado from her bowl. “I’ve dated.” So, it wasn’t a flood of men, plenty of admirers, but none of them aroused anything even remotely like the zing she’d felt with Buck—something she wasn’t going to admit to these nosy sisters.
“Yeah, right,” Anna said with a scoff. “Who, one of the field hands? You’re always working.” She smiled at her son, feeding him small bites of avocado.
“Who’s talking about dating?” Sofia said, waving her spoon. “She hasn’t had a moment to sleep with anyone. You know, mutual physical pleasure, orgasms, and all that fun stuff. You’re much too young and vibrant to go that long without sex.”
Her mom huffed out a laugh and said, “That’s my cue to leave and check on your sister. Make sure she’s up. That girl would lose her head if it wasn’t attached.” Her mom had nothing but affection in her voice for their youngest sibling, her seventeen-year-old sister, Carmen. Make sure you clean up before scattering,” she ordered. She disappeared out the door, then popped her head back in. “But I have to agree with them.”
“Mom, you traitor!” Mari yelled after she skedaddled away.
All her sisters chuckled. And, for a moment, Mari felt such a frustrated, and urgent need to see Buck again. She worked at keeping the disappointment out of her voice. “Besides, it’s very unlikely I’ll ever see him again.”
Anna looked at her, then sighed. “Oh, I see,” she said softly. Apparently, Mari hadn’t been that good at covering up her emotions. Anna set her hand over Mari’s and squeezed, then said, “You never know what the future holds.” She winked.
* * *
Andrew “D-Day”Nolan woke up in mid-flight. The C-17 wasn’t a quiet plane, but he’d slept for a while. He looked over the stretchers carrying his teammates and breathed a sigh of relief. That had been a hairy situation back there. He pushed up on his elbow and searched the faces for Joker. Their LT hadn’t regained consciousness since the helicopter crash. The flight doctor was sitting right near him, monitoring his vitals, and administering meds when needed, D-Day was sure. The Navy didn’t skimp on taking care of their special operators.
He sighed and settled back down, remembering how they had lost Rock. He had been mostly quiet about his feelings regarding Joker when he had first been assigned to the team, but he’d liked the guy from the moment he got there. Joker had been low-key, not too pushy about them accepting him, didn’t give any trite or gung-ho speeches about new leadership or any of that cake-eater shit. He was direct and got down and dirty in the trenches with them. That had earned D-Day’s respect.
Didn’t mean he didn’t hurt about the loss of Rock. That whole thing with their former LT had shaken him down to his soles. He’d buried those feelings just like a good special ops warrior.
As tired as he’d been, he couldn’t help noticing how interested the beautiful woman had been in Buck. He’d caught her touching Buck’s face before they’d been loaded on the choppers.
He started to drift again, thinking about how nice it would be to have someone, even a total stranger, be that way with him. He fell asleep and didn’t wake up until they had landed at Naval Air Station, North Island.
They were loaded off the plane just as two choppers landed. LT’s stretcher was placed on a medical air transport and Buck and the other members of the walking wounded team, including Flint into the other medevac helicopter. Twelve minutes later they were surrounded by a swarm of people in white coats and stethoscopes with the officer of the day barking orders.
D-Day winced as a sharp voice made the pain in his head feel like someone was sticking toothpicks in his eyes—from the inside out. “Petty Officer. Sit. Down.” He looked up to see Buck and a woman in scrubs in a standoff and immediately saw the problem. The wheelchair. Yeah, he wasn’t sitting in one either.
He was about to tell her so when Nurse Rachet turned his way, putting her nametag in clear view, Captain Julia Crane. Okay, new plan. “Sam, sit in the wheelchair. The sooner we get inside the faster they can focus on Joker.”
Buck’s anger deflated a bit as they were rolled into the emergency room, but he still wasn’t happy. Bear was wheeled away with Flint at his side. MWDs always went with their handler and the Army Veterinary Corps would have already dispatched one of their vets to handle Flint’s evaluation and treatment.
One of the last things he remembered was thinking he would have to tell Buck that he saved his career. Another minute and he was going to say something to a senior officer—a Navy captain—he couldn’t take back. And, then he was out.
Later, he saw Pippa Jackman, Julia Prescott, Bree West, and Isabelle LaBauve rush toward their men, all clasping them tight except a stricken Pippa who looked helplessly around for Joker until the doctor talked softly to her. Tears flowed slowly down her face.
D-Day couldn’t help wondering again what that would feel like to have someone like his teammates’ loved ones to greet him, care about him when he was deployed, and better yet, be part of his life. He wasn’t sure that would ever be in the cards.